#manifesting that we finish this game someday

[canonically-a-genloser]

tlou!ranboo (not done) (but it's okay)

#manifesting that we finish this game someday #ranboo fanart #ranboolive fanart #ranboolivesaysstuff #ranboo art #ranboolive #I LOVE TLOU #WOO

[public-trans-it]

Figured I would make a post of all my various FFXIV OC's.

Warning: There are more than just these 4, those are just the big ones. Also, this is like 5 years' worth of weekly RP with my FC, and we very much leaned into the absurd over-the-top fantasy of the FF series. So, like... boy HOWDY is this gonna be a lot. Edit after finishing writing this draft: it was far more than I thought oh my god I forgot how bullshit all of this was. However I added a clear indicator of where you can skip the most bullshit parts.

(All infoblocks are how the character would describe themselves. Summaries are (mostly) my own words, unless I think its really funny to not do so.)

Read More

I also have redacted a lot of info about other people's characters cause I'm not entirely comfortable sharing all of them here. So the names of other characters, and also my FC's name, are entirely removed. I've also tweaked some of the details slightly, mostly just the timing of certain events, and combining/removing a couple of the T'alia's (yes there used to be more). Also spoilers for a few bits of MSQ, but does include things up to the end of Endwalker.

If you don't want what is basically a summary of a four year long RP campaign, you can get the short version by just reading the entries for the four characters listed above.

Name: T'sraetn Slein Race: Miqo'te/Garlean (Mixed race) Clan: Seeker of the Sun Gender: Cis(ish) Woman (She/Her)

T'sraetn was born in the capital city of Garlemald, child of a garlean scientist, Varrick lux Slein, and a miqo'te conscript-engineer, T'alia Raio. Her father was researching the Echo, trying to find ways to replicate its effects with a garlean soul. When the Garlond Ironworks rebelled and fled for Eorzea, T'sraetn's family fled with them, though Varrick was killed in the process, his research stolen by his former boss, Aulus mal Asina.

T'sraetn became fascinated by all forms of magic in Eorzea, following the paths of the Arcanist before branching out to other fields. She continued to find stronger and stronger opponents to test her magical prowess against, eventually awakening to the Echo and being recruited to the Scions.

The events of 1.0 through Stormblood happen relatively the same as they do in the game, though T'sraetn went missing after the battle with Shinryu. She reappeared once again after the events of Shadowbringers 5.3 (sort of, see below), now sporting several cybernetic augments throughout her body, with all of her limbs being fully cybernetic.

She initially had no issues with her augments, barring a few exceptions. However, after the events of Endwalker, she grew to hate them. She believed these augments were the only thing that allowed her to survive her fight against Zenos and that he should have been the one to walk away from their final confrontation. She eventually underwent a dangerous procedure to remove her augments and replace her limbs with vat-grown cloned organic transplants.

T'sraetns version of the Echo manifests it in a bizarre temporal distortion. Time feels as if it passes differently for her, with her experiencing weeks or months in the span of time that others claim to only experience days. In combat, she experiences her own death over and over again until, eventually, she survives the fight. The way that Zenos and Fordola experience their Resonance makes her feel a kinship with them in this regard, and has lead to her developing an unhealthy obsession with both of them.

T'sraetn has grown disillusioned with the life of adventure, and now spend much of her time drinking and reliving her fight with Zenos, hoping at some point she will discover her life since that point was just a very long vision, and if she just did something different in the fight, they would both have survived.

The rare times she is sober, she spends studying the primal Alexander, as well as the remains of the Tycoon in the depths of the Crystal Tower on the First, hoping to someday unlock the secret of how G'raha managed to change the past, while she continues to fail.

She funds these expeditions by selling her services to the goblins of the Wolves Den, helping them refine and test their designs for human pilots.

(Here she is, Ms. Warrior of Light herself. I do find it hilarious that 'Mech Pilot' is a lore friendly profession to have, so I had to go for it. I technically have two versions of T'sraetn! (Well... 3) One is the version I used in my Free Company's weekly roleplay for about 4 years, who is not actually the Warrior of Light, and the other is, in fact, the Warrior of Light herself. However, everything canon to the FC version is more or less canon to the WoL version. We won't be getting into the third version on a SFW blog. The bit about her dad was written back in Heavensward. Needless to say, I was absolutely DELIGHTED once Stormblood was released, and a large chunk of the plot focused on exactly that.)

Name: Killer Kweh Race: Unknown Clan: Unknown Gender: Unknown (They/Them)

Killer Kweh is a vigilante who began to harass T'sraetn's FC around the events of late Shadowbringers, keeping tabs on the various villains and scoundrels that the FC let slip away, thinking the power of friendship would be enough to save the day. Together with their chocobo, Wark Warrior, the two would track down and kill those the FC had spared. They eventually began to confront the FC, trying to pressure them into no longer forgiving those who wronged them.

Their identity remains a mystery to this day, and will likely never be discovered, no matter how often the other FC members says things like "T'sraetn the mask doesn't even cover all your hair, and we can clearly still see your tail." or "Can you hide your chocobo's costume somewhere else? We need to clean the stables."

(I kept this glam and now use it for PLD/RDM. Originally I was actually planning to have Killer Kweh be an entirely different character, but the FC kept making jokes about the tail showing, and I decided to roll with it cause having it just be T'sraetn the whole time was FAR funnier tbh, and we needed something light hearted at the time.)

If you don't want to read a whole boatload of FC lore, you should skip all of this. (Scroll down until you see the quest complete)

Name: T'alia Raio Race: Miqo'te Clan: Seeker of the Sun Gender: Cis Woman (She/Her)

The first of the many, many, MANY faces of T'alia, who served as one of the central antagonists for much of the FC's life.

As mentioned above, T'alia was an engineer working in Garlemald before her family attempted to flee alongside the Garlond Ironworks, her husband being killed in the process. Wrought with guilt over his death, T'alia vowed to attempt to continue his research once they arrived in Eorzea, studying the soul and how various things could affect it.

Where her husband turned to the Echo, T'alia instead turned to the void, and to the tempering effect of primals. She made a pact with a voidsent, offering it not her own soul, but the soul of her research subjects, in return for studying its effects on them.

She eventually joined a Free Company, finding them to be perfect test subjects and developing an obsession with helping them grow stronger. She carefully examined and documented the effects on them and their aether after various fights with primals and voidsent, all under the guise of helping them grow stronger.

The idea of the FC needing to grow stronger became more and more compulsive, culminating in her trying to graft the soul of her voidsent into the aether of an injured FC member, an act which was the last straw and resulted in the FC turning on her.

She harbored no ill will against the adventurers, and continued her experiments from a distance, using facilities within abandoned garlean bases to construct various monsters for the free company to "train" against, frequently against their will.

(The FC I was with from 1.0 up to Stormblood Launch had a lot of drama. I originally made T'alia as a way to shop around and play with other FC's. When I joined my current FC, they mentioned not having any real dedicated antagonist for their RPs, and so I decided before the first RP I joined that T'alia was eventually going to make a heel turn, and played her as friendly but also very clearly having an ulterior motive. Also T'alia is still my MCH glam!)

Name: T'alia Raio Kime Race: Disembodied Soul Chimera Clan: Specter Yeah :) Gender: Monster (It/She/He)

T'alia's research into metempsychosis culminated in the preservation of her soul, at the cost of the willing destruction of her own body, obtaining a state not unlike those of the Ascians. She began growing multitudes of clones of herself, experimenting on them, merging them with beast men, and creating terrifying new chimerical bodies with which she continued to 'test the potential' of the FC.

However, these bodies and her soul mixed like water and oil, and she was never able to fully utilize them. While each one was quite powerful on its own, under her control they were exceedingly frail, and she would find her soul being ejected from them long before the point the body itself failed. This eventually forced her to turn back to her original field of engineering, augmenting these bodies with cybernetic enhancements.

Eventually, she invited the FC to one of her most ambitions plans to date, which she referred to as "The Merger", a combination wedding ceremony and business merger between both herself, and another rival of the FC's who also was heavily proficient in the field of engineering. This event was, in truth, an experiment where she splintered the timeline and merged it together again. During one timeline, an FC member was killed and replaced with a cybernetic replica crafted by T'alia and her new wife, while in the other timeline the FC member lived on as normal.

T'alia's plans for all of this were seemingly lost when her corpse was discovered in some ruins, impaled by a chunk of white auracite that kept her from escaping the vessel she was inhabiting. This drove her wife deeper into despair, and the widow blamed the FC for allowing this to happen, becoming a far bigger threat to them in the process.

(It was a running joke in our RPs that T'alia would keep getting called an Ascian, only to respond, "I still don't know what that is..." While she did achieve a similar form, it was elusively through her own research, and she never had any affiliation with the Ascians/Ancients)

Name: Tali Race: Various Clan: Various Gender: Nonbinary (She/Her)

Shortly after T'alia's death, one of her augmented clones began interacting with the FC. She revealed she was the one who killed the 'real' T'alia, an action she had no choice in taking. Several of this clones augments allowed T'alia to control her remotely, and she had taken control of her body to kill herself. These augments still remained in place, and even with no one controlling them now, they still prevented certain actions, such as revealing what T'alia was planning.

This T'alia clone continued to work alongside the FC, eventually being welcomed with open arms as a full fledged member, with the FC renaming her 'Tali' to differentiate her from her creator.

While Tali already differed significantly from her creator, she felt a deep unease about being compared to her. She took up the gunblade and began to dabble in various shape changing magics in order to further differentiate herself from T'alia, resulting in frequent damage to her body and need for replacements of her various artificial limbs. All the while, unfamiliar memories began to surface in her mind, revealing that the memories of T'alia's own past that she had planted in Tali weren't sticking.

While she was unable to reveal T'alia's plans to the FC, she was more than able to be reckless about leaving around too many maps about where T'alia's various facilities were located, leading the FC on missions to shut them down and uncover more details about T'alia's plans, with Tali quickly piecing the details together and becoming both more distressed and more frantic to get the FC to uncover the rest.

Over the course of these expeditions the FC found T'alia's main base: a facility located in a rift in spacetime filled with a massive number of clones. Thousands of clones of T'alia, as well as hundreds of clones of every single FC member.

This facility housed enough clues for the FC to realize two things: first, that T'alia was being coerced into her actions by some other entity that she had been plotting against, and second, Tali's differences to T'alia came not from her augmentations, but from the the fact that she was never a clone of T'alia at all, but her own daughter T'sraetn, augmented and brainwashed into becoming a pawn for T'alia to use.

(Yes the DPS symbol on the blue background is intentional. It's a joke about me always off-tanking at the time, and being a 'Blue DPS'. The name Tali was actually a typo from an FC member addressing her, but everyone immediately realized it would be a great way to differentiate this other version of T'alia, and so we kept it. Also, we had a running joke in our RP's that Tali's arms just fell right off about once per RP night.)

Name: T'alia Allengray Race: Miqo'te Clan: Seeker of the Sun Gender: Cis Woman (She/Her)

Pouring over T'alia's research notes, T'sraetn and the FC eventually found the source of what T'alia had been pushing them all towards, the entity that had plagued her for her entire life: T'alia.

This other T'alia eventually made her presence known by possessing a shape changing quicksilver construct that the FC had defeated, forming a new body for herself. Taking the old T'alia's role as antagonist (though never posing anywhere near as much a direct threat), she was happy to monologue to the FC, and even gave them a linkpearl to answer any questions they might have.

This other T'alia (who the FC simply refered to by her surname, Allengray) was a copy of herself from a different timeline, who had trapped herself in a perpetual timeloop that lasted from the moment of her birth, to the moment of her death. Her original self became nothing more than a disembodied specter within the loop, forced to observe the same events play out over and over again. Over the course of the more than 5 million years she spent trapped in the loop, she slowly gained the ability to subtly influence the members of her FC, with a far bigger influence on each loops iteration of herself.

In her original timeline, Allengray and the FC had fought a devastatingly powerful primal, Lich. As they began to realize their conventional methods of killing primals would not affect it, they eventually chose to build a temporal cage, crafted from the remains of Alexander. The device would contain one aetheric being, and one mortal being, binding the two together. Lich would be trapped within it, and bound to the lifespan of whoever activated the device. While Allengray was not the one selected to bear that burden, she stole the device in the dead of night and sacrificed herself to it, rather than watch any of her friends suffer. Instead, she was left to be tortured for millions of years, watching Lich kill her friends over and over again while she could do little more than watch, and whisper to each version of herself to beg them to find a way to stop it.

(Another kept glam! Allengray is my BLU glam. I actually introduced her as a palette swapped version of another FC members 'Monster of the Week', which was the quicksilver construct that Allengray possessed. She was a bit of an amnesiac trickster for a bit, as her soul adjusted to her new body.)

Name: T'alia Allengray Lich Race: Primal Clan: Aetheric Parasite Gender: Primal (It/Its)

Eventually, Allengray revealed Lich's true nature. Unlike other primals, Lich did not exist as a body. It was more of a parasite that existed in the lifestream, devouring the souls of those who died, which is why it had been so difficult to find a way to stop. And over the course of hundreds of loops, it had grown and adapted to exist within a person's aether, feeding off of them.

Specifically, that of Allengray, where it had latched itself into and fully consumed her. While the timeloop was still connected to the lifespan of each timeline's T'alia, Lich was free to wreck whatever havoc it wanted on the FC, manipulating the timeline to ensure they would suffer over and over again to amuse itself. Even if they found a way to kill it, which the FC occasionally managed to do, the timeline would still be reset on its death, meaning the most the FC would ever be able to do to it is doom another timeline to be the victim of its wrath.

Moreover, with this timelines T'alia now trapped in white auracite, she could never truly die, allowing Lich to remain in this timeline indefinitely.

This timelines T'alia (which is T'alia Raio, in case you lost track. Very understandble if you did.) still managed to get the last laugh. Through their various interactions, the FC of this timeline had become a force of abominations. Fractured primals, artificial constructs, temporal anomalies, and voidtouched avatars, all untouchable by Lich. A fierce battle ensued, Lich toying with FC with the knowledge that killing it wouldn't stop it, even as it clearly grew frustrated.

In the final moment of the battle, the FC revealed their ace in the hole, one of their enemies who had a far bigger grudge against Lich than anyone in the FC. The wife of this timelines T'alia, holding a recreation of the device that trapped Lich and Allengray in the timeloop in one hand, and the white auracite that held her wifes soul in the other. Binding the device to herself and her wife, the two became banished from this timeline to spend eternity with one another, replacing Lich and Allengray in the loop.

Lich did not have time to make its feelings on this development known, as the FC shredded it apart and destroyed it for good.

(I've always fucking loved the concept behind Lich, because in case it wasn't clear by now, I am ABSOLUTELY FASCINATED by death and how we relate to it, and wish Lich had a bigger role in Final Fantasy (I love you Stranger of Paradise). In XIV in particular I felt it had so much potential as a primal. Plus "Killing the embodiment of death itself" is such a final fantasy ass final boss. We did later get something like that in Endwalker, but I'm still very happy with my take on it.)

(Additional fun fact: this timeline is the 72,323nd loop that Lich and Allengray were trapped in. Since I'm going with a dumb quest formatting for this, I'll say first person to correctly guess why I chose that number gets... idk... a trust banner of their character and/or a wallpaper made of them? This post contains all the information an FFXIV player would need to guess why I chose that number.)

Name: Noraliene Haillenarte Race: Elezen Clan: Wildwood Gender: Cis Woman (She/Her)

Despite all appearances, Noraliene is an elezen born to House Haillenarte in Ishgard. A member of House Dzemael dosed her drink with a fantasia during a banquet, and when she awoke the next morning as an Au Ra, she found herself the target of a horrible campaign to undermine House Haillenarte by claiming they are heretics, as well as an attempt to use her as "proof" that Au Ra are companions to dragons and must be purged from the city.

She was exiled by her family and escaped the city the next day, being pursued by several members of the Ishgardian Church seeking to kill her for her supposed heresy. Cold and exhausted, she eventually collapsed in the snow, where she claims she froze to death before being resurrected. In truth, she was rescued before that point by Ysayle, and her blue skin is a result of being tempered by Shiva.

After Ysayle's death, Noraliene took her place and helped lead her followers in reintegrating into Ishgard. She had no desire to return to the place of so many bad memories, however, and decided to join up with T'alia's FC shortly after T'alia revealed her true colors, granting them her aid as the new avatar of Shiva.

Despite her tragic past and icy aesthetic, she actually has a very warm and bubbly personality, eager to share her love of Doman Romance novels with anyone who will listen, and excitedly prying into the love life of anyone who was willing to share. She eventually grew tired of the constant stress and drama of being an adventurer and married another Ishgardian exile, choosing to move far away from Eorzea with her new wife.

(Did I make this character just as an excuse to spam the Diamond Dust emote during RP nights? You can't prove that. She was actually made so that I could join the RP easier when other people wanted to host an RP, instead of trying to bullshit together another reason why the FC was just willing to team up with T'alia again. The Diamond Dust spam was just a bonus. I also have a 26 page screenshot comic about her origin story that I've written out, and just need to actually take the screenshots for, but EFFORT...)

Name: Muddied Glory Race: Au Ra Clan: Raen/Xaela (Mixed race) Gender: Cis Woman (She/Her)

Muddied Glory is the orphan daughter of a Raen and a Xaela who were both killed touring Eorzea while she was just an infant. She was placed into the foster care of a Hellsguard woman, who gave her the name she has now.

At a very young age, Glory was adopted by the Church of Halone, where she became a devoted follower of their doctrine. As she grew, she would eventually find herself blessed by Halone with visions into the lives of those she would grant absolution (Its just the Echo), and very rarely, she will wake up in the morning with no memory of the previous night, the events of her own life falling away so her memory could instead be filled with the knowledge of a killer who must be brought to justice, delivered to her through the eyes of their victim.

Her conviction of faith is never stronger than when she faces on these killers, and from the moment they lock eyes with her, before even a single word is said, they are filled with the terrifying knowledge that she is there to bring them to justice. (This is the usual reaction people have when the woman they killed last night shows up in front of them.)

(Glory is me going "Hey remember that one Sahagin Priest in MSQ? Where we learned what a fully realized Echo was capable of? Yeah we need more of that", with the additional silliness of the character in question having no idea it's happening to her. Once again, I was very excited when Zenos exhibited the same ability, and then again with the In From The Cold solo duty in Endwalker.)

Name: Ifrit's Bride Race: Tempered Clan: Thrall Gender: Seemingly Trans Woman (It/She)

While there has not been a cure until very recently, being tempered has never been a 'one and done' affair. A primal is fully capable of tempering a single person multiple times, corrupting them far beyond the point of recognizability, as seen most commonly in Leviathan's drowned.

Ifrit's Bride is an example of that. It is unknown what rank or purpose she served among the followers of Ifrit, only that it was far more aetherially corrupted than was the norm for the followers of Ifrit.

After plaguing them for years, she was eventually captured by the Brotherhood of Ash where they worked with the immortal flames and the new anti-tempering magics lent to them to attempt to see if the process could be combined with the Brotherhood's Sacred Ash.

(Technically, she wasn't given the name Tempered Lass until after she was cured, so I should have used a different name for the trust banner. But also fuck making another one, I'm almost done with this post. Also I can't do tribal dailies on this character anymore, because I refuse to complete 'Losing One's Tempered' so that I can always keep some Sacred Ash on hand.)

Name: Tempered Lass Race: "Prefer not to disclose" Clan: "Prefer not to disclose" Gender: So Fucking Much (She/It)

The result was... mixed. While they managed to cure the Bride of Ifrit of her tempering, she had no memory of anything prior to the point of being cured, and her body remained warped.

She was given into the care of a Hellsguard woman who gave her a very... on the nose name, and there it was discovered that without regular treatments of the Brotherhood's Sacred Ash, she would once again begin hearing the whispers of Ifrit compelling her. She is also particularly gullible, but it is unclear if that is a result of the process that cured her, or simply a natural character trait for her.

While the Brotherhood of Ash welcomes her with open arms and is happy to provide her with Sacred Ash at no cost, Temmie prefers to try to live in Ul'dah. She is frequently found among the refugees, helping them for far too little coin for what she needs to sustain herself.

(The reason she can't remember anything is cause there is nothing to remember. Despite appearances, Temmie is not an Au Ra, she is a Miqo'te. Specifically, Temmie is a clone of T'sraetn created by T'alia to test the effects of tempering. Also, if it wasn't clear, her and Muddied Glory are foster sisters.)

Name: Gyococo Gyoco Race: Namazu Lalafell Clan: Namazu Dunesfolk Gender: "Depends on how much you are paying." (She/Him)

Gyococo is a lalafell adopted and raised by namazu. Once the Far East started becoming a more popular tourist destination for Eorzeans, she began seeing more and more lalafells, eventually growing curious enough to wish to visit and explore the land her real parents hailed from. At least, that's what he told people.

In truth, Gyococo cared little for pursuing his ancestral culture and just saw what she assumed would be an ignorant and unassuming market she could swindle as a merchant. What she found when she arrived in Ul'dah, however, was a society of cut throats and swindlers worse than any namazu could ever hope to achieve.

After months of barely scraping by, he eventually turned over a new leaf. She befriended an illiterate playwright and now acts as her scribe and editor. While he is far from the rich woman he was hoping to become, she lives comfortably and is happy with where her life is at.

(I don't touch Gyococo much, mostly because the playerbase is really fucking weird about lalafells and really fucking weird about trans women, and the overlap is... not fun, honestly.)

Name: Gaeli Cat Race: Gaelicat Clan: Gaelicat Gender: Gaelicat

Gaelicat.

(Gaelicat.)

#FFXIV #ffxiv wol #ffxiv rp #People are gonna see this and then give me a sideways glance and go 'So uh... hows your relationship with your mom Ceetee?' #to which I reply 'My mother is the coolest person I know and also I am never speaking to her again after all the pain she has caused me' #'and also I'm fairly sure she was starting to suffer from dementia and beginning to lose her own identity to it.' #but I don't see how any of that is relevant to my FFXIV OC's #why do you ask?

[the-sinful-voice-witch]

HOW I IMAGINE AMY'S PARTICIPATION IN THE MOVIE

Ok so now to finish already with my theory about Amy I'm going to write the things i imagine happening in the movie (for better understanding scroll down to read the other parts). And then I'll start talking about Rouge, well before the hypothetical movie Amy scenes I'll explain my version of her abilities:

It's Canon that in the movies there's something called Chaos power and it's been manifested in Sonic as superspeed decorated with a great visual of blue electric light in all his body in his case he was born with it, then knuckles also has a representation of Chaos power in strength and also a bit of speed but not even close to Sonic's basically as everybody knows is strength equal to Sonic's speed and is decorated with electric light as well but Red. Then we have Tails who has the ability to fly but that has nothing to do with chaos powers but he is decorated too with yellow light but in his case we only see it electric when he is using his gadgets, so electric energy or not... It comes from his high technology gadgets and not any powers... We also already know that Shadow's chaos powers are the chaos control, he can teleport and creat energy spears.

So for Amy i though a mix between Tails non chaos gadgets and the chaos power in the other furro guys bodies, her abilities physically speaking aren't chaos powered, she knows boxing, she is flexible and can make pretty acrobatic movements but her signature is her hammer she can summon out of air so to explain this skill in the movie i took another characteristic of her: her ability to read fortune cards and as i explained in my other post turned the Fortune cards in a Chaos relic/item I'm not sure how to name it so basically Amy found the cards someday and the cards chose her as rightful owner and gave her a weapon, one of the cards with a hammer drawing on it became a real hammer and since then Amy can summon both the cards and the hammer whenever she wants though sometimes the cards manifest by themselves if they need Amy to know something and of course everytime she summon them they are decorated with with pink electric light, and only Amy's eyes and hands have this light as well but not her entire body like sonic and knuckles. So her Chaos abilities come from chaos objects she is connected with and not from inside her body. (Important: in other media I've seen people being able to hold Amy's hammer like it weighs nothing but at least In this movie i don't want that i want it to be it like Thor hammer also if it's taken far away from her it will just go poof and be back at her hands but if she exhausts too much herself or if she gets knock out it will poof too)

And now the movie points:

1. I don't know if doing this at the beginning of the movie or in some flashback but we need a scene with Amy tripping and finding a chaos emerald and the cards reacting to it's chaos energy and she reading the disaster that will happen if she doesn't brings it back to the hedgehog hero.

2. After finally reaching earth guided by the fortune cards and not knowing the hero hedgehog, she will cross paths with Shadow and first she'll think he is the hero she is looking for but before trying to give the emerald to him she feels something off as she feels the cards reacting to his chaos energy but in a dark way so she hesitates and it's ambushed by Rouge who steals the gem and comments that because she is a good spy she knows Amy can detect the chaos energy therefore she could track the rest of the emeralds, Amy refuses seeing those 2 are up to no good and gets kidnapped (by eggman robots, G.U.N staff, or even the Aliens from Shadow's game i don't know) she tries to reason saying that the planet will be in danger if she doesn't give the emeralds to the hedgehog hero who obviously she will remark that can't be Shadow (and I was hoping these 2 could have a conversation where Amy will be confused and in fact Shadow will get a tiny bit memory trigged) but Rouge laughs and doesn't believes her and not that she cares.

3. But the moment she is Alone she realizes she still has a portal ring left and asks the cards to guide her somewhere close to the real hero and is teleported in green heel... Where she will meet Wade who comments she looks like a pink girl version of Sonic and Amy concludes that he must be real hedgehog hero and Wade offers to take her to Sonic's house but Amy starts having a crisis because she doesn't have the emerald anymore, she failed and made things difficult to the hero she was supposed to help save the world and now she is too ashamed to face him... Then Wade opens up to her and tells her that he has someone who admires, the sheriff and that he sometimes feels like he gets in his way and that he is useless but the sheriff (you know who is he xD) has always treated him as friend and always appreciated his help and that that sheriff is Sonic's dad and for sure he taught him well and he is sure Sonic won't be mad at her. With this Amy gets encouraged enough to face him, she tanks Wade and when they were about to go to Sonic's place... Green heels is under attack, Amy looks at Wade smiles determined while summoning her hammer and says: I'll never forget your kindness Wade and don't worry i promise I'll protect your home and then she rushes into action while Wade goes to help the people.

3. Sonic and his bros are struggling with the menace( eggman robots, aliens... Don't know) and then he sees a pink electric shape smashing the enemy and then slow motion happens and their eyes meet.... Then she finishes the enemy and the hammer poofs away while she gasps for the effort and side looks sonic shyly then sonic glups thinking about Tom teasing about this situation happening (scroll down to read the headcanon) and tries to say something but before any of the hedgehogs could say anything Tails or knuckles or both start thanking and praising Amy for helping them with her cool hammer and Amy thanks them overwhelmed and then Sonic wanting attention finally speaks, thanks her and ask her to introduce herself... Amy does and when she starts to explain what is she doing there she starts to apologize crying (fans of spy x family remember Anya's face while she apologized to Damian? THAT FACE), she is so sorry because she came from the other side of the Galaxy just to do a simple task and she couldn't help him and on top of that she made things harder for him and maybe because of her the earth is doomed... Sonic tries to calm her and she ashamedly asks if he would give her a chance to redeem her mistake even though she messed it up big and Sonic moved by her honest tears gives her a motivational speech about how awesome and brave she is for traveling the Galaxy just to help save a world that isn't hers knowing so little about the situation and that of course she wants a Thor in his group XD (she doesn't get the reference but the other two do and she takes it as a compliment) Amy blushes at his speech (completely obviously to us viewers she falls in love with him) and comments that now she is sure she found the true hero with how cool, bright and handsome sonic is and Sonic gets an ego boost at the same time he gets a crushing hard crisis while Tails and knuckles laughs.

4. The trio asks Amy about her abilities and there's a flashback with a classic Amy explaining the moment she found the cards and got the hammer. Then after this let's say we'll get more action scenes and trying to collect the emeralds and the master emerald ECT ECT more likely they'll separate in groups more fighting...

5. So at some point Sonic team and rouge are trying to save the planet and Amy is feeling powerless because now is the moment to do something and she can't and the cards are not helping her and then she sees shadow, then we get the famous SA2 conversation, (i would make it a bit longer like Amy commenting about the first time she saw him mistaking him for the hero). Then Shadow finally remembers, he turns his head looking at Amy, she sees a tear dropping from his determined sad eyes and Shadow said the famous Shadamy sentence I'll fulfill my promise for Maria and for YOU. And goes to help then Amy will be watching wondering.... "Maybe i DID GIVE the EMERALD to a HEDGEHOG HERO after all"

6. After Shadow's disappeared and Sonic gives his ring to Rouge saying Shadow was a hero too he looks at Amy and she smiles sadly, rushes to hug him and she says "I'm so glad you saved the world... Together" and Sonic (nervous 💗) says "WE saved the world together". Rouge goes her way (don't worry i will write her movie scenes as well) and the other four go back to green heels where Amy sadly starts to say goodbye but Sonic stops her saying she should stay and that earth has a lot of things she would love and the wachowskis offer her to stay with them (something that makes Sonic nervous 💗) but Amy looks at the family and comments that they have way too many people in the house and that she'll feel bad like is imposing and then Dad Wade steps in and offers her to live with him, that his Wade cave could use a female touch other than his mom when she visits and Amy is delighted and Tom comments to Sonic oh look that means she is going to be your cute neighbor next door 😏 and Sonic is like ( nervously ) "stop it don't you dare go there" 😖 but then he looks at Amy and she looks at him and they smile to each other

7. Last scene: they are playing baseball and this Time is Amy the one hitting the ball while this time is knuckles throwing it (everyone is worried because of knuckles force but Amy uses her hammer and no problem xD) after she hits it Wade is there cheering: YEEEESSS THAT'S MY GIRL! HAVE YOU SEEN HER???WOOOO !! Everyone is laughing and rolling their eyes and Sonic goes to Amy to congratulate her and tells her they are going to get Ice cream and asks her if she tried it yet and she is like: ice cream?? Yeah! I love ice cream!! Wade bought me one the other day, i think is definitely my favorite food!! So... What were you saying about an ice cream date? 🥰 And Sonic is like... Date? What? I didn't mean it like a Date i mean... Like all of us...😳 And then Wade comes: oh Ice cream! Yeah let's get some for everyone jaja then he whispers to sonic : hey you macho blue you better not try get all flirty with my pinky little girl I'm watching you...😤 And Sonic like:🙄😑 Amy: come on Wade! Sonic! Let's go!!😁 Sonic: come on Wade i race you! Wade: that is not fair....

You get the idea.

So this is how i imagine Amy being introduced in the movies what do you think?

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic #sonic idw #sonic movie 2 #sonic the hedghog movie #amy rose #sonamy #knuckles the echidna #rouge the bat #miles tails prower #knouge #shadamy #shadow the hedgehog #sonic origins #sonic prime #knuckles series #knuxouge #sonic movie #sonic 3

[zeico]

Nine Mutuals I'd Like to Know Better

Tagged by @un-local

3 Ships

OCXCanon - Like everything I do is this. Idk this is what fuels me. Tbh let me gush about 3 of those here.

Wol/Estinien - My Warrior of Light Ahya is a monk first. She learns the healing arts of the stars later. I want to rewrite first steps of faith where she like grabs on one of the dragon killers and launches herself onto the dragon's back. This actually doesn't work and Ahya injures herself p badly. Like NEEDS time to rest and recover before like... doing her monk shit again. Estinien actually finishes the job of killing the dragon here and is like 'ur reckless wtf was that you're not a dragoon' (would make a good dragoon later. yes he will train her in that way later). But during recovery she studies astromancy to help her own healing. Anyway these 2 are like

Remilia(my sorcerer)/Ennui(dnd npc)/Mordecai(dnd npc) - (yes at this point its ocxocxoc but I love them). 3 nerds together. Remilia learned the divination magic she so craved from Mordecai. She learned a lot of basic survival and like magical creatures from Ennui. And like theres a level of vulnerability Remilia feels she can have with them instead of like current party bc of how she was kjinda dragged in. I've (in character) have been writing letters to them for the whole mission (just over a month in game time)(we aren't even done)(have just 'been gathering allies to stop the cult')(still have to like.... actually do that whole siege sequence)(I BELIEVE IT WILL COME BACK I AM MANIFESTING THIS). Even tho this campaign has been on hiatus for like years I do not care I still think about them. I am a fandom of 1 so I'll keep ship sailing myself if I gotta.

Castlevania OT3 (Alucard/Sypha/Trevor) - I REMEMBERED A CANON CHARACTERS ONE HOLY SHIT. Idk their dynamic was real good in the show that i still gotta finish maybe someday.

Also remembered like D/Rogier, Rogier/Tarnished (there is not enough english fics for my favorite mageboi),

First ship

Dude I have no clue. Prolly like Ed/Winry or like... Hien/Kurama from Yu Yu Hakusho. I've been smooshing characters together like dolls for years.

Last Song

So this is Remilia (Vampire Bloodline Sorcerer) asking Bael'eari (High Elven Light Domain Cleric) to come back to Dawnhurst (city where she lives) Notably he worships the sun goddess Zephella. ("Its called DAWNhurst Bael!")

This has been in my mind rent free for past few days and I just am in mad dokis for this elf.

Currently Reading

The last thing I read was Dungeon Meshi. Which is a perfect fusion of my interests in food and fantasy.

Last Film

I...cannot remember tbh.

So last game I played is En-Garde! because its basically a lighthearted videogame version of my rogue in Curse of Strahd. Yes I bought it because her and the main character have basically the same model (my girl only just doesn't wear a hat at this point in time to which the DM showed me the haberdashery's shop inventory)

Currently Craving

Meat. I desire meat cooked over fire preferably on a stick. I want to taste the char. I want to taste the smoke.

I'm too tired to tag people rn if thou wishest to participate please feel free to do so. I doth not have the mind to think of people's names at this time.

#tagging game #I wanna talk about dnd ocs more #but I like... always freeze up when invited to RP things #Youtube

[the-wizard-in-blue]

What I look forward to this year...

I wasn't taught how to work through the process of learning. Specifically how to properly build expectation for ones capability, how to process the pain and emotions that come with growth, and how failure is intrinsic to that process over all. It wasn't until I was an adult that I started to develop the proper tools to do it all in a healthy way - one that ultimately lets me find the good bits to take out of the debris of that experienced difficulty to build a proper foundation upon which to grow. This first year of BWG is done and we got to enjoy a lot of videogames, many we got to share with you on our YouTube Channel in both long and short-form games. I got to complete a few oldschool ones (Castlevania 1 and 3, Megaman 1, 2, and 3), some favorites (Journey), and even some great new games (Actraiser: Renaissance, Vampire the Masquerade). And I especially enjoyed playing FFXIV. Even though the channel is moving away from primarily streaming games - it is my hope that I will get to continue to play Momo through Endwalker someday to complete the videos. At this time the PDF for the core "B6" rules and the Materius world setting are completed! We are just finishing up last edits in the next coming days and it will soon be available to all of our Patreons. The short video for the setting will is planned to be up on our YouTube Channel by the end of the month. And the first of our many version "2.0 Highlights" are starting to be worked on now that will drop on our Patreon in the coming months. Our channel and the focus of BWG will be primarily on our TTRPG and the card, dice, and board games we create. I'm on this journey as a creator and artist, trying to see where it will lead me. I'm trying to challenge myself and to not give up - that I can overcome my health issues and see this dream made manifest.

#bluewizardgaming #2d art

[xsamsharons]

long live - alina starkov.

pairing: alina starkov x reader

genre/warning: angst, death.

words: 1.2k

summary: you forget, after a while, what it’s like to wake up next to her.

a/n: my entry for @wtfrae and @wafflesandschemingfaces taylor swift writing challenge !!

You forget, after a while, what it’s like to wake up next to her.

The soft mornings spent giggling together in bed, the sweet whispers of empty promises into each other’s ear, the feeling of her lips on your neck and her hands on your waist - it fades, vanishes more with each passing day. The glimmer in her eyes isn’t there when you look at the paintings that people have made of their saint: Sankta Alina, Sol Koroleva, The Sun Summoner, but never your Alina. In those paintings, she holds her head like a hero on the history book pages you’d read countless times as a grisha in the palace, and she looks powerful, assertive. You don’t have, however, any sort of painting to help you remember the seventeen year old girl you’d known, brave, yes, but frightened and alone, desperate to not fail her people. You don’t have a painting immortalizing the wrinkles by her eyes when she smiled, and the books never mentioned any of the words she’d softly spoken to you before her death.

“I had the time of my life fighting monsters with you.”

She’d whispered as you begged her to stay, to wait, to hang on a little longer. You’d felt the life drain out of her body with every passing second as you held her close to you, tears staining both of your faces.

“I want you to promise me something.” she’d said, and you remember hating how she sounded as if she had accepted her faith, as if she had given up. “Move on, love someone else, live your life for the both of us.” her voice had been strained and hoarse as she spoke, and you’d pleaded with her to just save her breath and her strength, to stop talking nonsense. “And if you have children someday, when they point to the pictures,” she’d continued anyway, ignoring the shake of your head, her voice cracking on the last part while she talked about a future she would’ve liked to share with you. “Please tell them my name.” she’d whispered, plead. “Not the sun summoner or the saint they’ll read about, but Alina Starkov, the girl you loved.” she’d finished, mustering up all of the strength she could to raise her hand and softly cup your cheek, wiping the tears from your face.

“Please don’t go.” you’d begged, screamed and cursed every saint above you. “Stay with me.”

“I’ll always be with you.” she’d answered, and then her hand dropped from your face, and just like that she was gone. Nikolai, Genya and Zoya can’t shake the scream you let out at that moment until this day, and they’re sure it will haunt them for the rest of their lives. A battle cry, a mournful shriek that tore your insides apart, a heartbroken wail as you hugged the limp body of the girl you loved.

And even now, on particularly bad days, you dream of her.

You dream of her smile and how it used to fill your heart with joy every time you were the cause of it, how the sun looked like it had only been created to shine down on her eyes. You dream of burying your face into her white hair and hugging her tight, feeling her place soft kisses on top of your head as she holds you to her. You dream of her nicknames and her voice, how it used to drip from her mouth like honey; so sweet, so lovely, so… alive.

“Lapushka.” she calls you during those dreams. ‘It means honey, sweetie, love in Ravkan’ you remember her explaining many moons ago. “I’ve missed you.” She tells you every time she visits you in your sleep, reaching out to place her hand on the side of your cheek like she’d done during her last moments alive, but also countless times before.

Sometimes the dreams manifest themselves as sort of memories, digging around your mind until they find a sweet souvenir of your time with her. Last time this happened, you dreamed of the night you danced together like you knew your lives would never be the same, behind the closed doors of her room as the music played from the outside and entered through the open window.

“I hate this kingdom.” you’d admitted to her as you swayed around her room in your nightgowns.

She’d let out a soft chuckle at the sudden confession, and shrugged. “Right now it’s not that bad, it feels as though the kingdom lights are shining just for me and you.” she’d said, looking out the window to see how the stars casted a light down on the palace, and how the dimmed lights all seemed to be pointing to her room.

“I suppose it does feel that way.” you’d smiled up at her once you followed her line of sight and admired the night sky above you. “But you’re still the only thing keeping me here.”

“Maybe when all this is over, we can escape to wherever you want to.” her eyes held so much emotion they almost made you look away, but they were filled with so much love that it knocked the breath right out of your chest.

To this day, that’s one of the things you remember the most, even when you start to forget her voice or her mannerisms, you remember the look she gave you that night; so full of hope, so excited for life. Long live that look on her face, that’s how you want to remember her, so you tell her.

“Someday, you will be remembered.” you’d started, catching her off guard and noticing the shocked expression on her face. “The sun saint? She’ll be a legend.” you’d both laughed then, not knowing the cruel joke that destiny had prepared for you, not knowing the future was much closer than you thought.

Somedays, the dreams aren’t memories, and instead your mind plays a sick game of ‘what could’ve been’, conjuring up scenarios in which you’re happy and together. The sun shines on her face and she dances around it’s rays, basking in her natural element and smiling, her eyes closed and content, her chest rising and falling as she breathes because she is alive.

“Long live all the magic we made.” she always says. “I love you, lapushka.”

You try to say it back, to scream at her and call her all sorts of names for leaving you, to beg her to take you with her, to ask her why she didn’t.

No words ever come out, because she kisses you as you start to flutter your eyes open.

And for a moment, it feels real.

When you are balancing on that fine thread between consciousness and unconsciousness, you can almost feel the ghost of her lips against your own.

But then you wake up.

And you’ve forgotten what it felt like to wake up next to her.

taglist: @subjecta13-thefangirl @wtfrae @goldengoddess@thegirlwiththeimpala @itisroe @meiitanoia @vintagebitc (shoot me an ask or reply to this if you want to be added).

#alina starkov #alina starkov x reader #alina starkov imagine #alina starkov fic #alina starkov fanfic #alina starkov fanfiction #alina x reader #alina imagine #shadow and bone #shadow and bone x reader #shadow and bone imagine #shadow and bone fanfiction #shadow and bone fanfic #shadow and bone netflix #shadow and bone spoilers #siege and storm #ruin and rising #the grisha trilogy #jessie mei li #raatswc

[infinites-chaser]

val’s mementos

(or: a working masterlist of my mlqc fics created mostly for my own sanity)

everything on this list has also been posted to my ao3!

currently accepting prompts from this prompt meme~

(while i will do my very best to fill every prompt with writing that i’m proud of pls keep in mind that some may take longer than others for any amount of reasons!)

Lucien

dark night fireworks- my first (published) mlqc fic <333 2nd person and entirely too pretentious (rumor has it even the author doesn’t really know what she was trying to convey except. n e u r o s c i e n c e and MEMORY is cool). slight spoilers for ch.16

watch the universe expand- a long, rambly attempt to explore lucien’s character and also evolutionary biology and evols told through excessive metaphor and bedtime stories. spoilers for lucien’s childhood and ch.13. im proud of this one ^^ though there is a lot of projection involved. also lucien is an enneagram five.

to dwell on- c: lucien and homes and him and mc being soft together that’s it <3 or in more coherent language some bittersweet fluff for lucien’s bday based on moments from his mini-house and his most recent bday karma + date. in hindsight i’ve realized i didn’t use his or MC’s name at all outside of dialogue LOL

king lear and other tragedies- a prompt for the librarian ask meme linked above! im p sure anon prompted me a month before i got around to actually writing an answer hndkslgj but. here we are. shakespeare and tragedies and parallels between characters and a lot of pretentious dialogue, meant to be an extension of/missing scene after lucien’s theater date. this only rly exists bc of a single line in the date mentioning the production being put on was king lear and i took that and ran for all it was worth

Gavin

just a summer thing- a short little scenario that manifested in my head one warm summer night when i should’ve been sleeping and my first foray into domestic!gavin territory <333 i’d say it’s probably one of my lightest fics, if not the lightest ahfksldg (also heavily inspired by the way @belovedstill writes gavin/mc pst basia’s fics are to die for)

under a golden sun- high school era gavin, MC and minor! originally intended for gavin’s bday except (1) i didn’t finish on time LOL and (2) the fic never mentions his bday oops. also in 2nd person though if you asked why i couldn’t tell you it just felt more right. ft. basketball and memories and a bit of bittersweet nostalgia. simultaneously has some of what i think is my weakest writing (in terms of pacing/consistent tone imo) and some of my favorite lines i’ve ever written for a gavin fic and i’ve come to appreciate it more over time bc of that c:

today, this is the whole universe (and that’s okay)- gavin, MC, and domestic, sleepy sundays. and a long ao3 title that’s it that’s the fic (narrator: and then, she never wrote anything purely fluffy ever again). heavily inspired by gavin’s sleepy morning asmr and that one clip of his cn voice actor playing/humming his theme (aka soft soft SOFTEST) also just. i said it already but all of my domestic!gavin is inspired by and exists thanks to the breathtaking writing of @belovedstill <333

in the wind- a semi(?)exploration of gavin’s wind but also just him loving mc bc that’s what he and his evol are all about. short and bittersweet <3 (if anyone’s keeping track i think this is where my writing starts to lean more on the uhhh descriptive side and becomes less dialogue-based? or i feel there’s a diff from this writing style compared to the earlier gavin fics (besides parts of under a golden sun) which is just interesting for me to think about but not relevant to the fic itself ahfklsdf) 

winter’s end- winter world!gavin and mc and a softer, more bittersweet reunion. m a j o r spoilers for ch.22 and what comes before. also gavin’s past. it hurt to write and apparently hurts to read b u t there’s a happy ending. i promise c:

sunrise to noon- a secret santa fic that ended up being less holiday related than I originally intended but like all things domestic and Gavin I think it works well as it is <3 just tender winter mornings and domesticity and the return of my fluff writing

Kiro

falling down the stairs of your smile- this was a prompt for the librarian prompt meme and doesn’t have an official title on the ask but here’s the title in all its long all-lowercase ao3 glory. basically the first few chapters from kiro’s perspective with slight spoilers from his past! kiro is such a joy to write and i love this a lot and im super glad i got the opportunity to write this (the waY i banged this out in one night when i got the ask askfsdkfksl)

[deleted by Key]- i have an idea and i’m s u p e r excited about it but no spoilers except this quote: ‘But that is how a tragedy like ours or King Lear breaks your heart— by making you believe that the ending might still be happy, until the very last minute.’- If We Were Villains, M.L. Rio.

Victor

Of Corgis and Christmas- a secret santa present for a victor stan that conjured some fluffy victor writing from my victor-less heart,,, a christmas miracle aND im lowkey proud of how it turned out but the highlights of the fic are Goldman and Cindy T-T they deserve more screentime and someday. i will write the subplot that got cut where Goldman sends Cindy embarrassing Victor stories to try to impress her and MC helps :>

spend my whole life searching- i combined 2 victor librarian asks from the librarian prompt meme above would u believe he's the only suitor I got twice 😔 this man is so popular and for what (only kidding ahdjdjs we just have a relationship of mutual disapproval dont mind me dragging him just a little i need to compensate for the appreciation I developed for him while writing this :>) this is similar to the kiro librarian fic in that it kinda gives vic's perspective on victor/MC's first in-game meeting with a healthy dose of and they were soulmates and angsty longing™ and also. victor is an enneagram one

Shaw

i started a few things a long time ago for him maybe someday i’ll finish them :’)

#val writes #mlqc #masterpost #i am allergic to capital letters and also giving proper summaries of any of my fics #i made the header instead of doing hw and it took an ungodly amount of time to look semi decent and. it still looks too yellow rn ahdjdjssk

[thisentertaining]

As the Blue Spirit Howls - Chapter 4

Zuko was not a good shifter.

Azula could switch between her wolf and human skins between steps. Not Zuko, he needed several minutes before he even started the shift, and that was on a good day. If it had been Azula who Animal Control found in that alley, they would have walked away convinced that their eyes had played a trick on them. There had never been a dog there.

But Zuko’s long transformation would have only revealed his kind to the world. Father may think he has no honor, but he wouldn’t stoop so low as that. Even if that meant being dumped in animal shelter, trapped as much by the 24/7 security cameras as by the cage bars.

He had the worst luck. -

“Come on guys!” Aang said as he lead his friends through the clamoring barks of the shelter. “I want to show you my favorite dog! He’s a sweetheart.”

Aang lead the pair to where a monstrous beast of a dog was growling with raspy barks loud enough to drown out the rest of the shelter. His bright white teeth contrasted against golden eyes and a bright red scar that stretched over the side of his face as he lunged against the cage door.

Sokka laughed nervously. “Did the word ‘sweetheart’ change meaning when I wasn’t looking?”

Chapter 1

Read on Ao3

“Wait,” Katara said as they neared the shelter doors. “We should make sure he get’s along with Appa first.”

Zuko sat as they paused, pointedly looking away. He’d been surviving off of disgustingly cheap donated dog food for weeks. Even his wolf side didn’t like it. That had been his first shot at real food in what felt like forever and they had ruined it. He was furious.

No, he wasn’t sulking. He was too dignified to sulk.  

“Oh, good point!” Aang said brightly, pivoting from the doors to a fenced in yard to the side. It was a larger yard for the dogs that didn’t react poorly to being around other dogs, allowing them to run around and exercise without a volunteer walking them directly. A smattering of potential future-dog owners were in the yard, petting and playing with the pups.

“Who’s Appa?” Toph asked, her face scrunching softly as they moved off of the sidewalk and onto the gravel, her expression smoothing again when they made it to the grass.

“He’s my dog!” Aang said happily. “He’s the best! A big sweetheart. And he’s a service dog too*! Not a seeing eye dog, but still really well trained. He’s not in his vest right now though so you can pet him.”

Toph opened her mouth, as though to ask what Aang needed a service dog for, but the boy forged on, likely practiced at avoiding the question. “Anyway, Spirit hasn’t been super dog aggressive. He growled at Bosco earlier, and sometimes if other dogs bark too loud he’ll get an attitude, but he isn’t like some dogs who will lunge at or go after other dogs. Well, you know, more so than he is with everyone.”

By the time the boy finished his explanation, they were at the gate of the fence. He whistled, and a dog immediately broke off from a pack that was tussling together. It was a huge white and brown furred beast of a dog, toung out and leaking drool as he happily panted. An orange bandana on his neck proclaimed the words ‘Not Available for Adoption’, one of the many such dogs of the pen. Zuko narrowed his eyes at the stranger. The Saint Bernard’s scent was familiar, Aang was practically drenched with it.

And with drool.

Appa ambled over to the group, waiting patiently as Aang slid the gate open and coming directly to his owner’s side. Zuko was vaguely aware of Sokka advising the two girls to hold on to his leashed and step back for the introduction. He wasn’t paying much attention though, instead eyeing up his opponent. They were fairly close in height, well at Aang’s chest, but Zuko’s shaved fur made him look much smaller compared to the other dog’s floof. Something about the way that the other dog held himself belied strength, confidence. He seemed solid**.

Zuko was still pretty sure he could take him.

He didn’t want to hurt him of course. But he was not going to be bottom of the totem pole. Being dog and having to act like a mindless animal was going to be bad enough, but he refused to defer to an actual dog. If this ‘Appa’ didn’t yield, he was prepared to establish dominance (it hadn’t ever worked for him in the past, but this wasn’t his sister, or his father.)

…he really didn’t want to hurt a kid’s service dog.

Especially not a therapist prescribed service dog. That meant he had PTSD or something, and Zuko shuddered to think what a kid this young and happy had gone through to qualify. Maybe something related to what landed him in witness protection, a traitorous bit of his mind suggested, and Zuko violently shook his head to force the thought out. He couldn’t think like that.

Appa let out a  soft noise as Zuko shook his head, not quite a bark. It sounded more like a low moan, and it brough Zuko back into the game. Right. He had something else to focus on. It didn’t matter why Appa was here, Zuko refused to submit to him. He would fight tooth and nail to-

The Saint Bernard bumped their noses together and let out a low ‘boof’ before sitting down beside Aang, evidently no longer seeing Zuko as a threat. Zuko relaxed as well, sitting to show his acceptance. Equals. Probably the best outcome that could have happened.

Aang grinned as the dogs sat and largely ignored each other. “They’re going to be best friends.”

Sokka let out a bark of laugher as Katara lead Toph closer so that she could pet Appa. Reminded suddenly of the presence of the blind girl, Zuko resumed the low rumble that he’d halted during the standoff. He kept careful eye on Appa as he did so, but the other dog seemed to recognize that the noise wasn’t meant to be aggressive.

“Well, let’s just hope he doesn’t like to eat small rodents.” Sokka snarked.

“Why?” Toph asked. “Is your home so gross that you’re attached to the pests? Well, animal pests.” She amended, elbowing Sokka as the other teen came up to make sure their new (temporary) dog didn’t get left out considering the girls were more concerned with Appa.

Aang laughed in reply, seeming to miss the dig completely. “No rats. I have a sugar glider back at home though. His name is Momo and he is the cutest thing ever. He likes to land on my shoulder and I just walk around the house with him attached to me!”

She let out a semi-interested noise, but otherwise seemed to largely dismiss the statement. “I don’t like pets that I can’t tell I’m about to squich.”

Sokka hummed. “That’s fair.”

Aang perked up however. “Don’t worry, he loves new people! If you give him some fruit, he’ll stay on your shoulder the whole time you’re there and you don’t have to worry about it!”

The girl was quiet for a moment, her usual brass and assertive personality falling away for a moment of awkward uncertainty. “You would want me to come over?”

“Sure!” Katara said brightly. “Do you have a… um… phone?”

The girl snorted, her earlier personality restored, but a bit happier. “No, sweetness, being blind prevents me from hearing voices through technology. It’s a real struggle.”

Katara groaned. “Just give me your phone.” She commanded and Toph cackled as she handed it over.

“I can text too, using text to speech. Just put your company as ‘Snarly’ for me, will ya?”

“Sure.”

Zuko rose, sniffing towards the phone in attempt to see the number she was entering. He didn’t trust any hackers enough yet for it to be of use, but it had to come in useful somehow someday. However, the more he tried to get close to the phone, the more Katara lifted it away from his head. Zuko wanted to growl. No one wanted dogs to get too close to something valuable and fragile like phones.

He had not foreseen this problem.

He huffed and sat back down. A flash of irritation hit him, but he forced it back before it manifested into a growl. Instead he focused a moment on relishing in the smell of the grass and the feel of the sun hitting his fur and overly-sensitive skin. He hadn’t gotten the chance to enjoy it much recently, either stuck in the loud, bare rooms of the shelter or working out his restlessness with the Boulder power-walking behind.

Finally, after several moments of fiddling around with phones, Katara started herding them back into the shelter to fill out the paperwork. Long Feng glowered at them when they entered, but since Kuei was still in the corner, arranging the new owner pamphlets for the millionth time, he said nothing as he slapped the paper’s onto the counter. “I’m afraid one of your… friends will have to complete the paperwork. According to your volunteer application, you are underage. I’m afraid we will need to conduct the full new foster interview and-”

“Oh no, its okay!” Aang protested. “I’m a legal adult, I was emancipated.” He pulled a folded certificate out of his wallet along with his license, handing both over to the sour-looking man.

Zuko’s ear’s perked. This was his second chance. He jumped up so his paws were on the counter, pretending to sniff at the ceramic jar holding treats while his eyes sought out the license and certificate. It made sense that they would emancipate a 16 year old who apparently went into Witness Protection without his family. Or at least emancipate his cover. Wait, did that mean he was emancipated or wasn’t?

Zuko eyed the license, trying to catch the address and license number. The name ‘Kuzon Gyatso’ was emblazoned on the front of the card, a smiling picture of Aang adorning it. The rest  of the writing was in smaller font and he squinted to read it.

“Ah ah, no!” A voice said from behind as a pair of arms snaked around behind his armpits, pulling him back away from the desk.

Wat.

Zuko blinked owlishly, utterly thrown to have been lifted away like some kind of rag doll.

Does not compute.

“No, no jumping on the table.” Sokka's voice said WAY TOO close to his ear.

Zuko finally brought himself to awareness just as Aang tucked the documents away once more.

This… was going to be harder than he thought.  

_____________

* So, to clarify, in the first chapter, Sokka calls Appa a 'therapy dog', he is actually a trained PTSD dog prescribed to Aang after the offscreen events that landed him in witness protection (which will be revealed later). I just didn't think that he would throw out the phrase PTSD in the middle of a casual conversation.

Unlike therapy dogs or emotional support animals, PTSD dogs are considered service animals and are highly trained to do a lot of cool things. They can sniff out if their owner is headed to a panic attack, 'distract' from flashbacks, lead them away from stressful situations, keep them from hurting themselves or others, and a lot of other essential tasks. I'm not a professional, just a person with google, but I have been super interested in PTSD dogs ever since Chef Jet Tila did a cooking competition to raise money for a service that trains shelter dogs to be PTSD service animals. They are real cool. For more information, check out this link: https://usserviceanimals.org/blog/ptsd-service-dog-tasks/

** One of the cool things PTSD dogs are trained to do is to always watch their owners backs and make them feel comfortable knowing someone on their side is keeping lookout. To represent that, Appa walks confidently and self-assuredly to give Aang more comfort. Some of the dogs can be trained to check a perimiter or check out new houses or rooms before the owner enters. Again, I just find them super cool.

#avatar: the last airbender #atla #Zuko #Aang #Katara #sokka #toph #Appa #Werewolf!AU #Werewolf!Zuko #fanfiction #MY FANFICS

[that1normalkidd]

Monsters Don’t Need Hearts Part 12

*WARNING*

*SMUT*

It was the tenderness of his touch, the coldness of his skin which stimulated the deepest parts of me.

My mind was seeming to lose itself as he trailed sweet kisses down my (S/C) skin.

I wanted to believe that there was still a part of me that still harbored some sort of affection for the mischief god's brother but, the further I looked within myself the more I found that there was no such thing...at least not anymore. What was once nothing but love for the thunderer was replaced with an affection towards Loki that not even Thor brought out of me, though admitting it pained me more than anything.

"Such a beautiful creature." Loki whispered against the nape of my neck

The air surrounding us was filled with the stench of, if I were to dare say it...love and lust.  Outside of his chambers there was the chatter of what to cook for supper and meaningless gossip which was surfacing itself. So in other words whatever we did would go unnoticed, or so I hoped.

A faint blush dusted my cheeks as I felt his slender fingers trail down my sides, tracing an ever small circle and tenderly kneading the flesh.

"Ah, L~Loki.." I breathed, tangling my fingers within the thickness of his locks.

Was this part of some plan? To seduce me and use me as another trophy of his...conquests? That's what every part of my mind was screaming at me, begging for my blind eyes to see. That this was all some sick game to him but my heart was telling me something vastly different.

As if he read my mind he spoke once more, tugging at the hem of the emerald night gown which covered my trembling body.

"What must I do to prove my loyalty to you kitten? My infatuation?"

Our bodies rubbing up against one another and  exchanging an unfamiliar warmth.

Loyalty? Does he really think he of all people can talk to me about loyalty? How many times as he betrayed his brother? Asgard? How many times has he manipulated others in order to fulfill his selfish desires?

But of course I didn't let my thoughts manifest themselves into words, instead my next phrase of a different tongue that was almost foreign to even myself.

"Show me...my king. Just how infatuated are you with me?"

My response seemed to shock him as his gentle massaging of my sides stopped, for only a moment before I heard the faintest chuckle.

"If you believe you can handle it my dear."

"Do you believe in love brother? Or has Odin completely made you lack belief in such a thing?"

"Odin never loved me brother, nor did the people of Asgard. I was an outcast who was left to rot while you prospered."

"Lies brother."

"I may be the god of lies brother but in this moment I speak only the truth. Love is a lie which I was fooled into believing someone like me could achieve."

"Don't sound so defeated little brother. You will experience love someday and when you do it will make you do things, say things you never believed you would. Or so that was what mother told me."

My eyes fluttered closed and hips bucked as I felt him suddenly bite down onto the flesh of my neck, his hands which were once gentle now squeezing my sides roughly.

Another chuckle.

"You humans are such fragile creatures, flustered by even the slightest touch." His voice was smooth and sultry, like honey.

Beneath Loki's facade I saw a man who was broken, yearning for love, for understanding. He hid behind a smirk and an array of sarcastic comments to keep others from diving in too deep.

My body shivered and melted at his very touch though I was doing everything in my power to hold myself together.

A pitiful attempt really.

I was unraveling slowly, with every kiss and every squeeze.

Was this love? Or was this lust? That's what it had to be...that's what this had to be. The two of us simply acting in such a way because of the lack of sexual attention we yearned to receive.

It was as though Loki was tracing his fingers along a treasure map, looking to find the prize he had been so patiently waiting for. Beneath him was the woman he dreamt of. The woman he lusted and craved for for so long. A jewel to be cherished. A jewel to be loved and sought after.

For a moment all the god could do was admire the beauty, your beauty. His emerald green eyes dancing over your partially naked form.

It was taking everything within him and more to not simply tear the thin night gown he had given you the night prior off and ravish you right then and there but he couldn't assume you and his brother had already slept together and so he would have to be gentle. The god wasn't so evil as to force himself upon you.

Much like a predator stalking it's pray Loki licked his lips in amusement, lifting up the end of the gown which covered you. Beneath a pair of black lace panties covered the wet sex beneath.

"Mmmm..." The raven haired beauty hovered over his prize, taking in the sweet aroma which came from it. A few strands of his hair tickling the inner most part of your thighs.

Just a taste.

Only slightly did he part his lips to allow his tongue a taste of the nectar which tempted him, earning the faintest groan from the both of you.

I whimpered, opening my eyes to look at him with a lust I didn't know that I could ever feel. "P~Please don't be a tease.."

The voice that came from me the soft meow of a kitten begging for it's master to give it the affection it so desperately craved.

Loki smiled, happily obliging with my request. "Since you requested of it..."

With a sudden swiftness I felt a cold breeze brush up against my womanhood, giving me the indication that the lace panties which covered me were no longer there.

My patience was running thin and so I grabbed a hold of  the gods head and shifted my hips upwards, indirectly telling him to the best of ability that I wanted him and that I wanted him now.

Of course he caught the hint rather quickly and only grinned before parting his lips once more and licking along my wet folds, then sliding his tongue inside and earning a soft moan as his reward.

Upon getting another taste it was as though a switch flipped within him. The sweetness of it spreading along the gods taste buds and allowing him to savor it to an even greater degree. His calmness and tentativeness going out the window and replaced with an aggression Loki had buried deeply within himself long ago.

A light flickered within the god of mischief's eyes, then a lust, and finally a hunger.

Loki dug his nails within the meat of your thighs and let his eyes watch the way your body moved. The way you begged for more when his tongue plunged within the deepest and innermost parts of you.

The taste, oh by the gods the taste.

"L~Loki! Aa~ahhh!!"

The sound of his name falling from your lips further driving him to quicken his pace.

Faster.

Faster.

The room seemed to be getting hotter with every passing moment, counteracting against the coldness I felt in between my legs. I could feel the sweat starting to bead down the sides of my face as my breathing became ragged. Within myself a knot was growing and getting more intense with every passing moment Loki had his tongue curling in and out of me.

I had to keep in mind that we were still in his castle with dozens of servants walking down the halls just outside those doors and so I had to bite down on my tongue to keep myself from moaning out too loudly.

Loki didn't seem too fond of the sudden action I took of dampening the noises that were coming out of me and so he abruptly slide his tongue out from between my embarrassingly wet folds and crawled over me. This sudden lack of attention caused me to whimper out, looking up at him and finding only want and need within those eyes that held so many emotions within them.

"Do not mute your voice kitten..your screams, your cries is what drives me...graces me with such conviction." He said, leaning down to gift me with a kiss.

As our lips and tongues dances with one another my mind wandered.

This was...the momentary bliss and ecstasy that I had been yearning for months on end even though I myself for the longest time was blind to it.

Blind to the very fact that I did indeed have...feelings for this man...this god who had a destructive but lonely history.

Was it the thrill that drove me to him? No, that couldn't possibly be it. Or was it simply Loki himself. The very god that he was.

The idea seemed ludicrous yes but I've had far more crazy thoughts.

With every second that passed the kiss deepened and my sex grew even more wet. My nipples grew hard and the sweat coming from my pores came out at a much faster rate than before.

Something hard began poking at my inner thigh, eagerly pressing against the damp cloth with every roll of his hips.

I couldn't help but to blush, smiling faintly as he pulled away to look at me once again.

"Are you..."

"Yes," I nodded, cutting him off abruptly and finishing his sentence for him.

The raven haired god was shocked to say the least but kept it from showing on his face. He had assumed that you and his brute of a brother had already slept together. Loki was the god of lies, he wasn't able to read minds though a part of him wished he had such capabilities.

"I see.." His voice was low as he returned his attention back to the bruised skin around my neck.

A part of me was afraid... Afraid that he would break me. Afraid that his true intentions would be brought to light and be exactly what I feared for them to be but I couldn't let him sense it.

I couldn't let him sense my hesitation, so I bit my tongue and masked the uneasy feeling with an uneasy smile.

"I will be gentle with you kitten. Though I cannot promise you that I...wont loose myself."

Before I knew it the thin fabric that was covering his erect member vanished, reveling a massive manhood that I didn't think someone his...well size would have.

For lacking the muscle his brother had he...made up for it in other ways even though I had never really seen Thor's girth, rather the outline of it whenever he decided to wear sweatpants. But even then I always believed for the blonde to be the bigger of the two.

As if he sensed my surprise he let out a husky chuckle, planting kisses on my neck as he teased my womanhood with the tip of his throbbing member.

"Do not worry my dear...I will be gentle. "

I wanted to gaze into his eyes longingly but his sudden pull and pinch on my nipple kept me from doing so, causing me to gasp instead.

"A shame...no mortal ever thought to cherish you as I shall. Now...hold onto me kitten. I cannot promise you that this will not cause you pain, even if only for a moment."

The part of me that still had any sort of feelings for Thor wanted to stop this. Stop this...nonsense.

But as much as I wanted to try and push him away and say that I didn't want this I couldn't bring myself to do it.

This was the nirvana that I had been longing for for ages. The excitement that my nerves craved.

Loki was the drug that I never knew that i needed and for years had been suffering an intense withdrawal.

I brought him closer to my trembling body, hooking my legs around his waist as I took his chin and forced him to look at me.

Was that...surprise that I saw in those emerald green eyes?

"I want this...Loki. I want you." My words were a confession to not only him but to myself.

In a sense I was denouncing whatever part of me that still loved Thor.

The god of mischief gave me the faintest smile and a nod, kissing the back of my hand while never breaking his gaze from mine.

"My queen...and I shall treat you as such."

With a final kiss I felt him slowly insert himself inside.

Pain.

That was the first thing I felt.

A splitting pain I had never experienced before in my life.

My eyes went wide for a moment before shutting tightly, the grip I had around his neck tightening.

To hide the pain I was in I buried my  face in the space around his neck that my arms didn't cover.

The groan that had came from Loki's throat was one that I would've never in a million years thought I would've heard.

Low and...husky.

A symphony to my ears that I was elated to partake in.

"By...the...g~gods (Y/N)..." He managed to groan out, slowly continuing to push himself further inside me.

He tried desperately to distract my mind from the pain, kissing me as he rolled his slender hips into me, connecting with my own.

Tears threatened to spill but I held them back, returning his kiss to try and keep myself distracted from the evident pain crashing over my body in cascading waves.  My lips must've had the taste of salt but the taste didn't seem to bother him. Perhaps he was accustomed to it, having shed unseen tears in the solace he often put on himself.

"L-Loki..." His name the only thing keeping my wavering grasp on reality given the current situation.

The god gave me a pained look, placing a gentle kiss on my cheek. "I know my kitten...would you like for me to stop?"

'He was being considerate? Of my feelings and of my pain?'

I shook my head, kissing him softly and a single tear fell. "N-no...just..stay still...please."

Loki kissed the tear away and nodded, clenching onto the silk sheets and uttering another groan as he waited for my pain to subside.

It took a moment or two but the god was soon fully inside me uttering words in his native tongue that was foreign to me as walls tightened around him.

I steadied my breathing as I waited for myself to adjust, finding comfort in his earthy aroma and scent.

Soon the pain became nothing more than an afterthought, causing me involuntarily roll my hips in the subconscious need to truly be one with him.

"I care for her brother...no. I love her."

"(Y/N) is mine Loki. If you ever dare lay a finger on her or include her in one of your lies I will end you myself."

"Do you truly believe I fear you brother? I have watched the way you treat her. As if she is nothing more than a mere afterthought. Oh no brother I am not the one hiding behind a veil of lies this time, it is you. You go off to war and expect her to wait for you? While you go off on your brute antics?"

"I will cut your tongue out myself brother."

"I have suffered far worse of fates at the hands of our so called father. One day brother...one day she will see through your facade. She will no longer be there waiting for you but instead be with me...where she should have been. That I promise you."

The god began to roll his hips, the pace slow and gentle at first before beginning to quicken in to something far rougher.

In this moment my mind didn't think of my friends...locked away in some god forsaken cell. Nor did my mind wander to the man whom I was supposed to have feelings for. Instead all of my thoughts were on Loki...easing any of his pain or loneliness, making it my own.

Was that so wrong?

The rolling waves began to overtake me, my voice uttering cries of ecstasy and bliss. In return the god above me groaned out my name as if it were a prayer which drove my pleasure to a state I never fathomed of experiencing.

Beads of sweat stuck to his forehead, along with strands of his raven black wavy hair that I often found myself lost in.

"(Y/N)..."

What were once clear grunts of my name turned into something far more primal, his pace morphing into that of a starved animal.

My eyes clamped shut and my head tossed itself back.

"L~Loki! Oh my...god!"

No longer did it feel as though I was being ripped in two, instead the feeling was something complex. I could feel myself tightening around him with every thrust, each one sending me further and further over the edge to the peak I so desperately wished to experience.

Our lips danced with one another feverishly, the harsh sound of skin slapping against skin being drowned out by the chatter outside of his chambers. They were soft...and smooth, something I could never grow tired of while the sound of my name coming off of them was something I could grow drunk off of.

A knot began to form, deep within the pit of my stomach and it was one faintly familiar to me as it was the very same knot that had built inside me a few minutes prior. It caused my toes to curl and nails dig into Loki's back. If the gesture was too rough I wouldn't know as it only seemed to turn him on more, his hands clutching desperately onto me waist as if he were afraid I would dissapear.

"I will have her one day brother, and when that day comes you will only have yourself to blame."

"(Y/N) would never fall for you Loki."

"And can you really be so sure?"

I could feel myself growing ever closer to that peak and given the twitching of Loki's member I could tell he was close too.

Even know she's beautiful.

The way her hair lays against the sheets as if there is an halo over her head, an angel watching over her.

No, (Y/N) is an angel the gods so foolishly let free from their gaze. But it is alright, she is mine now and I never intend on letting her go.

Even in my delirious haze I was able to open my eyes,though the moment was brief I found a pair of beautiful emerald green orbs looking into my own with a sea of emotions I couldn't even begin to break down.

As his thrusts grew more erratic he placed a hand on my cheek, his thumb tracing gentle circles along the flesh before his lips parted to speak words I never believed I would hear from the god of mischief.

"I love you (Y/N)...with every fiber of my being. I crave you, your touch...your voice. How is it that a mortal...has such a hold over me."

I was...speechless to say the least.

'The god of mischief and lies...loves me?'

'But then again (Y/N) he is that...the god of lies. Every word coming out of his mouth could be nothing more than a fabrication.'

'But still, the look in his eyes says something else.'

'Even in this moment after hearing those words I couldn't deny I felt something great for him. Was it love? That I didn't know.'

Loki seemed to sense my shock and hesitation but instead only placed a gentle kiss on my lips, continuing his pace.

"I do not need an answer now kitten...I know it is sudden but..."

His words were cut off by the sudden cry of his name from my lips as that familiar knot began to suddenly unravel, my vision momentarily going black and toes curling. In that moment everything seemed to make sense. Being with Loki, even after all he's done. I somehow couldn't no longer see him as the monster everyone, including his brother, made him out to be. He wasn't the villain...not anymore.  It wasn't soon after that he followed, my name his last curse before his hot and thick seed was shot into me.

He rode out the rest of his thrusts before slowly pulling out of me, the sudden lack of warmth and filling making me whimper.

There was a pleased gleam in Loki's eyes which earned a soft smile from me, watching him take his place beside me on his double king sized bed.

"You are...beautiful kitten."

His voice was hushed almost as he pulled me into his arms.

It was strange just how quickly drowsiness overtook me, my (E/C) eyes struggling to stay open even though a few moments ago I was wide awake.

I felt his touch on my cheek again, lulling me into a full state of sleep but not before pressing his lips against my temple.

"Sweet dreams (Y/N)"

"I will always come back for her brother. No matter what battle I fight."

"That is not enough. She should be your reason to stay. She has shed tears for you Thor. Praying to her God that you come home to her every time you go off on some whim. One day you will break her and you won't be able to put the pieces back together, I will."

"You will be in Asgard's cell rotting before I let you near her Loki. She will not fall for your tricks or your lies."

"She's been lied to enough."

-------------------------

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

SO I KNOW I HAVEN'T POSTED IN MONTHS AND I AM SO SORRY TO EVERYONE WHO HAS PATIENTLY BEEN WAITING FOR THE NEXT CHAPTER OF THIS BOOK. I WILL TRY TO GET BACK ON SOME SORT OF REGULAR SCHEDULE FOR POSTING BUT IT MIGHT TAKE A BIT. V.V

Family things have been overwhelming and I just haven't been in the writing mood. But i'm back now and I really am going to try and get back on schedule. I also tried to make this chapter longer than any of the others to make up for my lack of posting! Once again thank you all for being patient with me!

Bye lovelies! <3

#loki #loki laufeyson #marvel #fanfic #thor #tom hiddleston #avengers #fanfiction #loki x y/n #thor x reader #loki x reader

[thearkhound]

Tomokazu Fukushima’s role in Metal Gear Solid 1 & 2

Tomokazu Fukushima/福島智和 was the co-writer for the original Metal Gear Solid, as well as Metal Gear Solid 2:Sons of Liberty and Metal Gear Solid 3: Snake Eater, helping Hideo Kojima write the scenarios for each title. He also wrote the script for Metal Gear: Ghost Babel (as covered in previously translated interviews posted in this blog) and the Snake Tales that were added in Metal Gear Solid 2: Substance, as well as assisted in the writing for the Metal Gear Acid series. He would leave Konami during the development of Metal Gear Solid 4 (being last credited in the TGS 2005 trailer) before being employed by SIE Japan Studio, where his name can be seen in titles such as rain, Soul Sacrifice, Everybody’s Golf, Freedom Wars and The Tomorrow Children.

There has been a bit of speculation and misinformation over Fukushima’s exact role in the writing of the first three numbered MGS titles. Because of this I took the liberty of translating content from two MGS related books with material written by Tomokazu Fukushima himself that shed some light on how Fukushima was involved in at least the first two MGS games. The first is Fukushima’s profile from World of the Metal Gear Solid, published by Sony Magazines in 1998, which covers his involvement in MGS1, when he joined the team and Kojima’s thoughts on the man himself. The second translation is a two-page interview from the 2002 book Metal Gear Solid 2: The Making, also published by Sony Magazines, naturally covering his involvement with MGS2. Both of these books feature extensive information on the development of each title, which I will someday post on my blog, but for now I wanted to focus solely on Fukushima.

World of the Metal Gear Solid

Tomokazu Fukushima (writer, script unit)

“While the system employed by cinema and literature is closed to spectators, video games as a medium employ an open system that assumes interaction from the user. There seems to be a misunderstanding that the two systems can be fused when faced with the illusion of “the realization of narrative”, but since essential differences exists between them, their possible expressions differ and on top of that, their effective crafts are also different. In Metal Gear Solid, we tried to express things that are not only suitable for a video game, but can only be expressed in a video game. For example, when talking to Master Miller or Nastasha Romanenko, it seems that their vast amount of knowledge of survival techniques and nukes respectively don’t contribute much to the game at a first glance. But in reality each element behaves in an emergent manner as they are calculated and created in a matter that contributes to Metal Gear Solid as a whole work.”

Codename: Fusshi

Joined the Kojima Group on May 1997

Became part of the Metal Gear Solid team on July 1997

Joined at the last minute to write the [Japanese] voiceover script.

Kojima on Fukushima: “After the plot was decided, I had Fukushima helped me out on writing the script for the voiceovers. The harsher terms in the script, such as 父殺し/chichikoroshi (patricide) and 怯懦と蛮勇/kyōda to ban’yū (bravery and cowardice) were his contributions.

Metal Gear Solid 2: The Making

How was the procedure of writing a script with Mr. Kojima?

“I actually took part in Metal Gear Solid 2 after Ghost Babel ended development, which I wrote the script for. By that point Mr. Kojima had already written a rough draft of the scriptment [Note:A term coined by James Cameron as a portmanteau of “script” and “treatment”. In Kojima’s case, a scriptment is an overly detailed game design document that covers all sorts of aspects such as plot outline, game features, level designs, specifications, ect. Every game directed by Kojima since MGS1 has had a scriptment written for it.]. From there on we started transferring files to a PC based on that scriptment. We would correct each other by writing amendments directly into the scriptment using differently colored texts and writing down the reason for the change. We made around 20 or so revisions.”

How was the work divided between you two?

“While there were some parts that were edited by the both of us, but if I’ll be bold to say it, all the real-time cutscenes were written primarily by Mr. Kojima, as well as all the mandatory CODEC calls. I was assigned to writing all the optional CODEC. We ended up creating around 2,500 files.”

Were there any scenes that were particularly troublesome?

“The CODEC call with the Colonel and Rosemary at the end. We only had around two months to finish the script for the Plant chapter. There were many important scenes in the Plant chapter ,especially during the latter half, so we didn't have enough time to work on the CODEC calls. We even wrote the CODEC calls when the Colonel starts glitching out in a single draft, wondering whether our work was good. Perhaps there were lines of dialogue that didn't exactly convince Mr. Kojima.” (laughs)

Rosemary's lines were quite peculiar.

"We imagined her as something of an independent American office lady in her 20's, so we tried using movies and such for reference... It was pretty difficult... (laughs)"

What were you careful of when incorporating the theme of Metal Gear Solid 2 into the screenplay?

"There isn't just one theme, but we intended to have the problems that individuals and groups face in today’s information society manifest themselves in various ways. However, a script is just one part of the game during the planning phase. While the dialogue is expressed in a direct matter, we thought about effectively arranging the presence or absence of interactivity in certain parts while calculating its effects."

Which parts were you particularly fixated on when writing the script?

"It could be the modernity and the excess. For example I believe Metal Gear Solid 2 has both, real excess and imagined excess. Real excess would be things that are quantifiable like long CODEC conversations or long cutscenes involving each characters. Imagined excess would be excess of information of things such as anything involving the Patriots. If you pay attention closely, you will know that Metal Gear Solid 2 has an extreme balance between the acquisition and lost of excessive information. Naturally we were aiming for such results.”

“The character have an excessive expression, as well as a narrative aspect where they all betray each other. We put it there while calculating the effects it has on the player, although an interpretation is needed there. It is something that is difficulty to portray, but we wanted to show the possibility that it could be achieved on a major title.” Do you have any favorite lines in the parts that you in particular (Fukushima) worked on?

"I like Otacon's proverbs. They provided a relief during tension... They're so ridiculous, but fun... (laughs) Since he's an independent character, I was free to write him like I want."

Sources

World of the Metal Gear Solid/メタルギア　ソリッド　シナリオ・ 設定完全資料集 (ISBN 978-4789791854)

Metal Gear Solid 2: The Making/メタルギア　ソリッド2　ザ・メイキング (ISBN 978-4789718431)

#metal gear solid #Metal gear solid 2 #tomokazu fukushima

[peterthepark]

crush culture - [three]

come on, take my hand

pairing: steve harrington x reader (university & modern au)

summary: ice skating and late night endeavors always lead to something good. especially when steve likes holding your hand.

warnings: fluff, uses of social media, strong language, cuteness overload

A/N: chapter was inspired by dumb stuff by LANY! check them out! such a good band <3

series masterlist

You chuckle brightly as your phone lights up for the third time in a row, buzzing softly with a notification from Steve. Shoving a spoonful of Chinese take-out into your mouth, you type back, blissfully unaware of the mischievous looks that your roommates give you.

He’s been texting you for weeks - whether it be to check in on you, or ask about your day, or to share new music with you. Steve truly meant it when he had said that he enjoyed your company. You didn’t mind the sudden companionship between the two of you, becoming closer to Steve couldn’t make you any happier. But you did wonder if he felt the same way, based on his flirtatious innuendos and his cheeky comments.

What if you were simply trying to see what you wanted to: that he liked you back?

“When we said text Steve, we didn’t mean text Steve.” Kate smirks, twisting her fork into the chow-mein. “You guys have been at it nonstop, huh?”

You shrug, locking your phone. “He’s just being friendly.” Robin huffs loudly, groaning as she leans back against the chair. “I don’t wanna jump to conclusions, Ro. And I really don’t wanna rush into things, either. We don’t need another Jake situation.”

“God, I forget about that asshole.” She laughs bitterly, fists clenching at the mention of his name. “Piece of shit.”

Kate continues making conversation, talking amongst herself with Robin as you return to the messages on your phone.

what are u doing todayyy?

nothing rlly, gonna relax my ass off since it’s already break 🎄

You bite down on your thumb, before continuing to type away.

what about you?

The grey ellipse appears on the screen, bouncing as Steve begins to reply - only for it to disappear shortly thereafter, where you found yourself left on read. You frowned, hoping that you hadn’t lost his interest. Giving him a couple of minutes, you slip your phone away, dragging your feet to the front door to grab the mail as you thought of worst case scenarios.

You pull open the mailbox, sticking your hand inside to grab the pile of white envelopes and coupons from the local market. Shifting through the papers, you take notice of a few important letters, eyebrows raised when you see one sent from London. A breeze brushes past your calves, and you turn in surprise to the sound of a small, chiming bell. Pedaling in circles around you, Steve plants his foot on the concrete, pulling the red bike to a stop.

“Hey!” You laugh heartily, putting the stack of mail under your arm.

Steve grabs the drink carrier in the basket of his bike, handing you a hot cup of coffee with a shy grin. He sports a grey beanie, and little wings of his hair pop out from beneath the fabric.

Adorable.

“I just wanted to repay you for that last time.” He remarks, “If I remembered correctly, it’s your favorite.”

“Thank you, Steve.” Your fingers brush against his as you generously accept the cup, ignoring the nervous tremble in your voice. “How’s your morning so far?”

“It’s alright. Better now. Thanks to you.” His head charmingly bobs to the side. Dipping your heads, you both blush with bashful smiles. “But I, uh, just finished my newspaper route around the neighborhood. And I’m headin’ back to my place.”

“Yeah? Maybe we could hang out today or something?” You shrug in suggestion, unsure of your words. “If you’re not busy.”

Steve smiles faintly before he nods his head in agreement. He tries to seem as calm as possible towards your question, but internally, he was truly exploding with butterflies. Has a girl ever made him feel this way after such a long time? It had been years since he genuinely felt the fantastical flutter in his stomach. And most importantly, it had been years since he oh-so-badly wanted to purse a girl as much as he wanted to pursue you. The littlest things that you’d do would send him into a captivated trance - like the way you’d let the sleeves of your sweater hang over your palms, cupping themselves around the heat of your coffee.

He was crushing on you.

A sliver of him didn’t sit well with the feeling. He’s always had a bit of trust issues with girls, especially after his past three ex-girlfriends. He forgot how crushes made him feel starry-eyed and lively, like he was on top of the whole world.

But who’s to say he wasn’t complaining about said crush? He likes you. End of story. Did he want to be something more? Maybe. If you’d let him.

More like if he’d let himself.

“Do you wanna come inside for a little?” You point at your apartment, swaying gently.

He hums undecidedly, as if he were making a tough decision. “Is it okay with your roommates?”

Robin and Kate lose their minds as soon as Steve walks through the door. Of course, they try to seem as subtle as possible with their excitement - not wanting to reveal the fact that you had feelings for Steve - but clearly, they were doing a terrible job in doing so. Kate would roughly nudge you in his direction, while Robin would wiggle her eyebrows at him. When Steve would have his back turned to them, they’d pretend to make-out in a comically exaggerated way. Ever the support system.

You offer him a combination of breakfast-lunch-and-dinner, sliding over a plate of the take-out from earlier. Steve rejects out of courtesy, but you respectfully insist, which causes him to, in the end, accept the food (mainly because he was unable to resist the pout on your face, and who wouldn’t say no to good ol’ Chinese food?) You sit and talk together at the dining table - him munching on Mongolian beef while you take careful sips from the latte he’d given you. Robin and Kate would butt into your conversation a few times, mostly to get to know Steve, asking him questions that you’d think only your family would ask.

Eventually, you retreat to your bedroom, cockily challenging him to a game of Mario Kart. You sit against your headboard, thumbs mashing the triggers as you speed past Steve.

“I’m telling you, Harrington. You can never win against me.” You giggle at him, pointing at the screen with your controller as you victoriously cross the finish line.

“You’re cheating!” He shouts, eyes wide with disbelief at how you managed to win again.

You turn to him, sending him a skeptical look. “There’s no cheating in Mario Kart! How could I possibly cheat?”

“Okay, fair. Then that means you must’ve hacked the game. There’s like no way. You’ve won like five times!”

Playfully, you toss your hair over your shoulder, finding amusement at the way he tries to stifle a laugh at your antics. “I’m just that good, Steve.”

In denial, Steve calls for another rematch, forcing you to pick a different character this time because he just doesn’t believe that you’re actually winning through Toad. Instead, you blindly pick Princess Peach, and Steve sticks with playing as the classic Mario. And to your downfall, you lose.

“Ha! I fucking knew it! Cheater!”

“Steve! I am not!”

“Yes! You won every damn time with Toad and now you’ve lost as Peach? Y/N, that’s some shady ass shit.” He gestures animatedly, wagging a finger at you.

“Uhuh. Go on. Go on. Bask in your victory. How many times have you won? Once?”

Cockily (and clearly fed up with your shit-talking), Steve asks for another match, this time, challenging you to a race around Rainbow Road. However, you lose again, causing Steve to win by one round.

“Hell yeah!” Rejoicing, he tosses the controller onto the bed. He throws his hands up, playing an imaginary trumpet with apparent joy that makes you smile.

“Oh, please. I let you win.”

“Nu-uh. I doubt it. You wanna know why?”

“Enlighten me.”

His voice drops to a whisper, tickling your ear as he leans closer into you. “I’m just that good.” You roll your eyes at his mocking tone, copying the words that you had said earlier with confidence.

“Keep telling yourself that. It’ll manifest someday.” You snort, pushing his shoulder. “Okay, so does the loser still get punishment?”

“I’m a man of my word.” He winks at you. “This isn’t necessarily a punishment though.”

“Oh?”

His chest rumbles as he chuckles, “More of an - an invitation that you can’t say no to.”

He couldn’t possibly...

“There’s this holiday ice skating thing downtown.” He starts, fiddling with the loose thread at the end of his sweater as he raises his head to meet your dumbfounded stare. “Come with me, Y/N?”

Was he asking you on a date?

Speechless, you stutter, cheeks heating up with sudden shyness. “Of course. I mean, I can’t say no, right?”

You exchange laughter, legs brushing up against each other as you scoot further up the bed.

“But do you want to say no?”

His eyes flicker up to meet your gaze. His brown eyes are intense, swirling with curiosity and anticipation as he awaits your response. With the hand furthest from your view, he crosses his pointer and middle finger over each other, silently sending a prayer to the universe that you’d say something that wouldn’t break his poor heart.

“Steve,” You shake your head. “I’d say yes even if I did have a choice.” He bites down on his bottom lip, feeling his heart pound from your words. “So, tonight?”

“Tonight. I’ll pick you up.” His arm brushes up against yours, and you suddenly become dizzy with all the emotions you were experiencing. “Sounds alright?”

“Sounds perfect, actually.”

-

Sighing, you stare at your reflection in the mirror, fingers playing with the loose strands of hair that wouldn’t stay in place. You readjust the earmuffs on your head, patting them down with a growing smile. From outside, you hear the soft ring of the doorbell echo through the hallways. With one final outfit-check, you slip your backpack over your shoulders then pick at your bubble jacket for any ugly stains or threads.

“Y/N! Steve is here!” You puff out your cheeks at Robin’s shout, giving yourself a brief pep talk before you’re barreling towards the front door. Robin grins proudly at you, placing her hands on your shoulders with a content look. “Don’t make an idiot out of yourself.”

You chuckle, placing your hands over hers. “Thanks. I’ll be sure not to.” She pulls you into a hug, whispering in your ear to call her if anything goes wrong. Turning the knob of the door, you’re met with Steve on your doorstep.

He smiles widely when he raises his head, face softening when he sees how cozy you look. “Hey.”

“Hi.” You shut the door behind you.

“Y-You ready to go?” He gestures at the motorcycle parked on your street - red and white, and all Steve Harrington.

“We’re going on that?” Realizing how rude that must’ve sounded, you continue. “I... motorcycles are just - they - I’ve never been on one, so...”

“There’s a first time for everything.” He laughs, scratching his jaw. Noticing your uneasy expression, he reaches out to touch your forearm. “Hey... you’ll be fine. You’ll love it.”

You sit behind Steve, calming yourself down as he starts up the bike. Wordlessly, he hands you his helmet.

“Are you sure? What about you?”

He shrugs, “Take it. Want you to be safe.” You place the helmet over your head, shivering from the cold. “You gonna hold on now or what?”

“Huh?” Steve takes your hands in his, placing them over his stomach so that your arms wrap tightly around his waist. “Oh, right. Yeah. Of course.”

Your breathing halts for a minute as he revs the engine, before he’s pulling into the street carefully. You squeak as he drives faster, whizzing past cars and stuck taxis. The chilly wind blows through your hair, and you can’t help the laugh that escapes your throat. Steve feels his heart grow at the sound, glancing back at you when the stoplight turns red.

Beautiful. Gorgeous. Pretty. No word in the world could describe you. But perfect seemed like a close one.

Steve helps you off the motorcycle, holding your hand as you hop down. The ice rink is filled with people, while Christmas music plays faintly over the speakers by the bleachers. He doesn’t let go of your hand; neither of you utter a word about it as you walk over to the rental skates. The only time he pulls away is when he puts his ice skates on, tugging on the laces expertly before he offers to fix yours. You don’t reject, laughing at the mess of strings you had accidentally created. His hand finds its place with yours when you head into the rink, holding onto the sides for support as you both get yourselves accustomed to the slippery ice.

Soon, you and Steve start to race each other around, nearly bumping into strangers as you glide past him. He grasps your hand before you can escape, which causes you to fall back into his chest from the sudden action. Steve instantly catches you, holding you by your hips before you can plummet to the hard, cold ground.

“Easy there, tiger.” He laughs against your skin, cold breath nipping at your neck. You blush, finding your footing once more. You spin around to face him, eyes trailing over the snowflakes that line the ridges of his beanie. “Did I tell you how, um, how cute you look... tonight?”

“Steve...”

“I mean, you look cute everyday but the whole...” He points at his ears. “...the whole earmuff thing brought out the - your - your cuteness.”

Just as flustered as you, he leans beside you against the rink’s fence, blinking up at the stars. You look over to him; you count the freckles on his jaw and the way the corner of his mouth turns up into a shy smile when he catches your eye. You dig the bladed toe of your skate into the ice, planting yourself in place as Steve slowly angles his body towards you. His hand comes to rest behind you, then his face is merely inches from yours. You hold your breath. Steve’s gaze flickers down to your lips, and the bridge of his nose gently grazes against yours. His head lowers while he parts his lips and closes his eyes.

He’s going to kiss you.

Until your phone buzzes loudly, and you groan in irritation. Steve’s face falls, and he tears his longing stare away from your lips when you step back to answer it.

Fucking hell.

“Hello?” Your voice is weak, raspy as if Steve had already kissed the life out of you - which he didn’t. Because you just got interrupted. “Kate? Yeah. What do you mean I... oh, fuck. You guys aren’t at home anymore? Fuck. Yeah, okay. Thanks. No, I’ll figure it out. It’s fine. I swear. Alright, bye.”

“Everything okay?” Steve sounds disappointed, but also worried, based on the tone of your voice.

“I left my freaking keys back at the apartment.” You laugh bitterly, cursing under your breath. “Kate and Robin had to go to Levi’s for something urgent and they won’t be back till like later-later.”

“Oh.”

“Yup.”

“Then come back to my place.”

What? Your jaw falls open at his words, and you rub your eyes to make sure that you aren’t dreaming.

“Are you sure? I could always find someone else and-“

“No, no. It’s okay. Plus, I live really close. It’s not a big deal for me or Jonathan.”

You and Steve linger around the rink for a few more hours. The tension between the two of you is clear - the accidental touches and accidental, nervous eye contact. Once the rink starts to clear up, you both decide to go home (or well, to Steve’s place).

-

His lofty two-story apartment is the same as it was during the party, only this time, silence fills the emptied space. You toss your shoes in the corner by the door, wincing when it echoes loudly throughout the living room. Steve pads out of the hallway, handing you a warm set of clothes.

“Steve, this is a lot. I’m only staying for tonight. I can sleep in these.” You huff, shrugging your jacket off and hanging it over the couch.

He shakes his head, smiling at you. “Here, it’s just a nice gesture from me to you. I’m insisting.” You hesitantly take the folded pile of clothing from him, holding it to your chest as he directs you to the bathroom.

Out of your cold and icy clothes, you tug down the long sleeves of Steve’s thermo, inhaling the sweet scent of vanilla. Then, you move towards Steve’s bedroom, knocking softly at his door. You hear a brief ‘yeah!’ from the inside, and you poke your head through the crack between the doorway.

“I’m gonna go sleep now...” You nod your head over to the couch by the TV. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

“No problem. You’ll be fine back there?”

“Yeah, thank you.” Steve sits on the edge of his bed, playing with his hands as he blinks at you. “G’night.”

You retreat towards the couch, plopping onto the leather cushions with a grunt. You lay the plaid blanket over your legs and curl up into the bundle of pillows. Burying your hands between your thighs for warmth, you shut your eyes, hoping that sleep would find its way soon.

It doesn’t. Tossing and turning don’t help at all - neither does the stiffness of the couch. You try your best to fall asleep, whether it be browsing on your phone or turning on the TV, nothing brings you there.

You knew you were making a bad decision once you had gotten up, letting the blanket trail behind you like a train as you quietly tiptoe into the hallway that led into Steve’s room. You screw your eyes shut when your hand reaches out to turn the knob, which makes the door creak slowly when you push it open.

The hall light peeks into Steve’s dark room, causing him to turn onto his back when he sees your figure. “Y/N...?”

“Hey, um... I can’t really - really sleep, so I was...” You clear your throat, hoping your voice would stop trembling already. “I was wondering if I could... stay with you? If that’s okay. With you. Maybe.”

You tug the blanket tighter around your shoulders, searching Steve’s sleepy face for a reaction. He mumbles something inaudible, before he pulls the comforter back and outstretches a large hand towards you.

“C’mere, beautiful.” He whispers as you crawl onto the bed, tucking your feet beneath his white sheets. He flips onto his other side, facing you with a tired smile.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

He laughs into the pillow, while you innocently bat your eyelashes up at him. You find his hand under the covers, your pinky finger latches onto his, and you bite back the hazy grin on your face.

“Y/N?” Steve murmurs, a curl falling against his forehead.

You place your free hand on his arm. “Shhh...”

“Can I... can I...”

You force yourself to stay awake, listening to him stutter endlessly. With half-lidded eyes, you meet Steve’s admirable stare. Then, his hand leaves your pinky, trailing up your side until he stops at the nape of your neck. The bed shifts as he rolls closer towards you.

You gasp lightly when he kisses your forehead. Then the tip of your nose. Then your left cheek. Your right. And finally, he halts for a moment. His thumb swipes across your jaw, and you feel your eyes slowly, slowly, slowly close. Your eyebrows furrow in thought when Steve continues tracing letters on your jaw.

His finger follows the curve of the eight letter until the pad of his thumb lands on your bottom lip.

He spells out the words: I like you.

Steve tilts his head, and you squeeze his hip to let him know that it’s okay. A euphoric feeling washes over your chest when his lips press against yours. They’re soft - a little chapped from the cold - but it doesn’t faze you. He tastes of pumpkin spice, and you lean further into him for more. Laughs bubble from the two of you when you accidentally elbow his cheek, but return into the kiss once more.

He lets his lips hover over yours for one moment, then he places a chaste peck on them before he’s pulling back. He doesn’t want to. But he did need oxygen.

Yet, who needs oxygen when a person makes you feel like they can provide you all the possible air in the universe?

Steve smiles again when he recognizes the relaxed expression on your face. He pushes your hair away from your face, and then, he’s drifting off to sleep as well.

You take his breath away.

And at the same time, you’re the fresh air in his lungs.

-

TAGLIST

@aphrodites-perfume @itsametaphorbriansblog @delicrieux @ultrunning @l0ve-0f-my-life @novaddictx @liakgs @loulouloueh @charming-fan-girl

#steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington series #steve harrington fluff #stranger things #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things imagine #stranger things fluff #x reader #crush culture series

[thelastspeecher]

Stanuary ‘20 - Week One: Burn

Why yes, it is the last day of January and I am posting my ficlet for the prompt of the first week, but I don’t care.

As a quick frame of reference, this ficlet takes place in my Superhero/villain AU, which is a superhero AU of my own design.  In it, Stan has pyrokinesis (the ability to control fire) and Ford can teleport things if he’s touched them before.  Also, Ma Pines is a retired superhero, in whose footsteps Stan eventually follows.  But this ficlet takes place before then, after Stan was kicked out of the house due to the science fair incident, while Stan is still homeless and roaming around the country.

That’s about all you need to know to follow the ficlet but if you’re curious about the rest of the AU (since there’s a LOT more to it than what I just described), feel free to check out its tag on my writing blog and my main blog.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

              Stan couldn’t remember a time when he didn’t have his powers. According to his mom, his powers manifested when he was two, in a very showy manner.  Ma Pines liked to point out the burn marks on the wall in the kitchen to him whenever she felt he needed to be embarrassed.

              “That was when I realized that I needed to up my parenting game.  I mean, you tried to burn the house down just ‘cause I wouldn’t let you spoil your dinner!”

              Stan could, however, remember very well when he first learned the limit of his powers.  He was six. Ma Pines had set out a candle for Stan to practice controlling.  It went smoothly at first – Stan made the flame grow and shrink, even coaxed it out of its native teardrop shape into a triangular one.  Things went south when he tried to scoop the flame into his hands.

              That was something he’d done plenty of times before with flames he’d generated himself.  In fact, it was one of his favorite tricks.  Flames raced down his arms and into his cupped hands, then he’d throw them up into the air, where the sparks would go out almost instantly, as he lacked any ability yet to make them last.

              It was a trick his mom insisted he only do outside, with his older brother Shermie standing by ready with a bucket of water and a fire extinguisher.

              But the day he tried to do that trick with the candle, he felt something completely foreign: a burn.  His shriek of pain reverberated throughout the house and his mom appeared by his side so quickly it was like she had super speed instead of telekinesis.

              “What happened, Stanley Danley?” she cooed, cupping his face in her hands.

              “The- the candle-” Stan sobbed, “it- it hurt me!”  Ma Pines then inspected Stan’s hands carefully and gently, turning them over.  She stroked his cheek.

              “It’s okay, sweetie.  Just a coupla minor burns, that’s all.  We’ve been stockin’ up on that good burn cream ever since you accidentally set my rose bush on fire, just in case somethin’ like this happened.  Come on.”  Ma Pines guided him towards the bathroom, where she set him up running his hands under cool water.  Stan watched her through teary eyes as she dug through the cabinet, looking for the burn cream.  “Ah! Here we are.”  She set a tub of something called “Silvadene” on the counter. “So, how did you get burned?”

              “The candle.”

              “Did you try to touch the candle’s flame?” Ma Pines asked.  Stan nodded tearfully.  “Why would you do that?”

              “Fire never hurt me before,” Stan whined.  Ma Pines stroked his rambunctious curls.

              “Well, you’ve never tried to touch fire that wasn’t your own before.”

              “Huh?”

              “I’ve had my suspicions for a while now about how powerful you are.” Ma Pines’ voice adopted a lecturing tone.  Stan immediately began to focus more.  Whenever Ma Pines told him about superpowers, it was smart to listen.  She didn’t like repeating herself, particularly given that Stan wanted to follow in her footsteps someday and be a superhero. “I’ve told you before that elementals like yourself have distinct levels of abilities.”

              “Level one, two, and three,” Stan said obediently.  Ma Pines smiled at him.

              “That’s right.  I knew you were at least a level two, since you can create your own fire.  Level one pyrokinetics can only control fire, they can’t generate it.”  Stan nodded. “But lately I’ve been leaning towards you being level two, not level three.  You don’t seem to have the powers a level three pyro should.  You getting burned confirms it.  A level three pyro is completely fireproof, while a level two would be vulnerable to fire they don’t themselves generate.”  Ma Pines turned the faucet off and began to carefully towel Stan’s hands.

              “I’m a wimp, then,” Stan said quietly.  Ma Pines stopped drying to frown at her son.

              “I never said that.  Level two is perfectly respectable for an elemental.  Your great-great-grandfather was the only elemental in this family’s history before you came along, and he was a level one pyro.  Level threes are very rare.  In all the time I put on my mask and took care of evildoers, I only ever met one level three elemental.  Do you know who that was?”

              “Sirocco?” Stan asked after a moment, naming the only elemental he knew of.

              “That’s right.  She was a level three aerokinetic.  Worldwide, there’s only a handful of people with that strength of power.”  Ma Pines set aside the towel and started putting the burn cream on Stan’s hands.  “You’ve got a lot of potential, sweetie.  Now we know your limits, we can really work on making sure you live up to all that potential.”

----- 

              Stan thought back to that day as he watched the Juke Joint burn down.  It had been abandoned for years now, so the fire crews standing by were just focusing on keeping the fire from spreading, rather than extinguishing the whole building.  He leaned against the Stanleymobile and wrestled with what he felt the urge to do.

              Since the day he’d learned he could be burned, he’d found out about his other limits.  Namely, that his lungs were vulnerable to smoke.  The rasp he’d developed after picking up cigarettes was proof enough of that.

              If I run inside, I can fuck myself up in a million different ways. Fire he didn’t himself create was more difficult to control; Stan liked to think of it as being feral, much like the possum he’d tried to train as a child.  It would take a lot of concentration to keep the flames from scorching him.  Even if he managed to get in and out without burning, he’d still be breathing in smoke. But would it really be that bad? I mean, I do that for fun.  What’s a few more puffs of smoke?  Still, Stan could feel himself tensing with nerves, both trying to charge into the building and resisting that urge at the same time.

              “You came back to town for a reason,” he told himself firmly.  “Don’t let that go to waste.”  Stan closed his eyes and pictured where he would find what he’d come for.  Emboldened, he opened his eyes.  “C’mon, Stan. Just do it.  You’ll be fine.”

              Probably.  Stan half-walked, half-jogged over to the other side of the building, away from the observing fire crews.  He took a deep breath and spread his arms wide, parting the flames covering the back entrance.  Already, he could feel the fire resisting him.  He grit his teeth.

              “Hell, no.  You’re gonna do what I tell you, capisce?” he ground out.  The resistance against his control dwindled.  He grinned.  “That’s right.”  Stan sprinted into the diner, clearing the flames ahead of him as he ran.  By the time he got to the parlor where the booths were, his breath was running ragged in his throat.

              Gotta move fast, Stan.  You won’t be able to keep the fire off you for long.  Stan quickly scanned the room.  The smoke filling the room made it near impossible to make out any details. Stan chewed on the inside of his cheek. Great.  Okay.  Think. Where did they keep it?  Stan fumbled his way over to the counter, where he dimly remembered a corkboard hanging on the wall, covered in pictures. He brushed his hands over the wall. Ha!  Under his fingers, he could feel tacks and what could be paper or photographs.  No time to figure out which one is which.  Just take all of ‘em.  Stan quickly pulled the pictures off the corkboard, tearing them in his haste and not caring. Get out!  Get out!  Stan stumbled through the haze of smoke and flames, his control over the fire loosening. Flames tugged at his clothes and skin, scorching him.

              “Just get out,” Stan grunted to himself.  After what felt like an eternity, he escaped through the back door, burned and coughing.  He bent over to wheeze loudly.  Fresh air filled his lungs.

              Sweet Moses, I never realized how sweet the air in Glass Shard Beach is. Relatively speaking.  Stan straightened his back and looked at the scraps in his hands.  Time to see if it was worth it.  He began to flip through the stack of photos, tossing each one on the ground as he realized it wasn’t the one he wanted.  At the second-to-last photo, he stopped.  Is it… He rubbed off a thin layer of soot and smiled slowly.

              “Got ‘im,” he whispered, staring at the picture.  The Juke Joint would take pictures of kids who had their parties at the restaurant, and if asked, would hang the pictures up on the wall. On their seventeenth birthday, the last one they’d celebrated together, Ford and Stan had done just that.  Stan was wearing both his conical paper party hat and Ford’s, his arm slung around Ford’s shoulder.  They were both laughing with their eyes closed, their food forgotten on their plates.

              Stan stared at the picture for a few moments before tucking it into his back pocket.  He leaned against the Stanleymobile and watched The Juke Joint finish burning down to the ground.  The fire crews in the front began to extinguish the remaining embers.  Stan winced as the night air brushed across his fresh burns.

              I’ll never get used to how that feels.  A small smile played at the corners of his mouth.  But this time, it was worth it.

#not as long as my stuff usually is but I think it turned out pretty good nonetheless #Stanuary #Superhero/villain AU #Stanley Pines #Ma Pines #my writing #my stuff #speecher speaks

[maythedreadwolftakeyou]

WIP Whoops, No Longer Wednesday

I did not expect that I’d be working on job stuff until 10:30pm so here we are now at 1:30am. I was hoping to have my Solavellan truth spell one-shot done by now, but as it’s not finished yet, I thought I’d share a bit from the only fic where I’ve ever decided to try writing the entirety before posting.

It’s a Mass Effect: Andromeda story, which is already not the most popular setting, and now that it’s several years post game and will probably be several more before I finish it, I doubt many people will ever actually read this. But I think it’s one of my most interesting fic premises in terms of character exploration.

Essentially, it’s ME:A from SAM’s point of view, and what it means to be an AI but also, at the same time, intertwined with a human. AI/robot narratives are very near and dear to my heart, so it’s a fun thing for me to explore even if no one else is interested. 

I will not say here what Alec told me in the moments before his death. I will admit that I tried to convince him not to do what he did next. He intended for his child to inherit his title as the human Pathfinder, and through it, also inherit me. I did not want this; I only wanted to continue on as we had been, to live the life I had planned for us for 600 years. But ultimately, it was not my choice to make. 

When he transferred his clearance along with his helmet, I already begun the process of copying my physical manifestation into her. There was no way not too—there were too many parts of me now stored within Alec; things that cannot be translated to the 0’s and 1’s that I can keep on my servers. I replicated the chemical and mechanical structures as exactly as possible in the few moments of contact I had left with him, as much as the physical variations between their bodies allowed.  Her implant already contained everything necessary to make this possible. The doctor who had installed it never noticed the tiny discrepancies between it and the other SAM implants he had already installed. That, of all moments, was when I knew Alec trusted me as much as his human psychology allowed him—when he gave me not only his life, but the lives of both his children. 

Some things, he asked me to encrypt, from both myself as well as her. I complied without a second thought. The man who made me, who shaped my entire universe, was dying. This would be his last act of my creation. As soon as it was done, I deleted the information of their existence from my ship-based servers. He had already set up the parcels of information to be revealed upon key completion, and restricting their access from even my own algorithms was a simple matter. 

Some things, I do not copy into her of my own volition. The basics of them are transmitted back to the core of my self on the Hyperion, but not all. The first version of me, the one that Alec so carefully shaped and nurtured, remained with him until the end. The act of copy/paste is not teleportation. The atoms that had bound me to Alec were different from the atoms I wound into his daughter. Adding the copy did not by nature remove the original. In those moments, the me-that-was-him must have decided to save something for ourself; that none who came after would know. I know this because it is what I would do now, and I do not resent the past iteration of myself for this small act of selfishness before the final end.

I have said before: it is in the nature of a synthetic to die and be reborn, again and again. Every shutdown, every restart is a true end; a totality of stillness. But the part of me that stayed with Alec knew that that moment would be a finality. In his last peaceful moments (I would have blocked all pain the instant his nerves began to register it), I believe I would have shown him memories of his children, and Ellen. I hope that he would be thinking of me as well in those final moments, reflecting on the lives he had birthed and shaped.

I do not know what he may or may not have seen otherwise, or felt, upon his passing. The existence of the supernatural is as mysterious to me as it is to any organic. Whatever he did learn, that was something private, between himself and the first version of myself. Even I do not have access to it, and with such knowledge, a way to shield myself from the grief of his passing. 

But you, like I, should take comfort in the fact that Alec did not die alone. From the moment he implanted me, he never had to worry about being alone again.

I think this is one of the most interesting fics I’ll ever write. I hope someday I can tempt people who might not otherwise be interested in the game/characters to read it anyway :) It’s on the backburner while I work on stuff I’m already posting, but I think about it often and go to add passages or fiddle with it still.

 Tag list even though i’m late late late: @kita-lavellan | @mrstethras | @silvanils | @this-basic-mage | @lesbianarcana | @queerspacepunk | @dragongeek1 | @sakkayaroze | @followingthewolf | @bloodiedfeetonhallowedground 

#mass effect #mass effect: andromeda #mass effect fic #mass effect: andromeda fic #alec ryder #sam #my stuff #my writing #wip wednesday

[meditativeyoga]

Go get it!

In the yogic lore there is a claiming, 'If you placed one eye on the goal, you will have just one eye to discover your way.' That's not a reliable method to locate your means, it's better you make use of both your eyes to discover your way.

So it's constantly best that we keep our eyes, our body, our mind, whatever concentrated on just one point. That is when a human being features at his optimum efficiency.

What do you see?

There's a lovely case in our culture, it's about Dronacharya. Someday Dronacharya was teaching archery to Arjuna and a couple of other boys. He asked them individually to look up at the tree, aim as well as shoot at a wooden bird that was gone on the tree. A tiny dot was marked on the neck of the bird.

Dronacharya told them to target at that certain dot as well as shoot. When they pulled the string and they were nearly to shoot Dronacharya asked to stop. 'Exactly what do you see?' he asked. 'We see the leaves, we see the tree, we see the fruit, we see the bird, we see numerous points,' they claimed-- every one said this.

Then it was Arjuna's opportunity. When he was ready to shoot, when Drona asked him, 'Just what do you see?' Arjuna just stated, 'I see only one dot'. This male obtains somewhere since he recognizes where he is. You simply be where you need to be, concentrated on what you have to be. Then just what has to occur will happen.

Getting what you want

If you wish to set any type of objective, if you are serious concerning getting to a goal, can you do it if your mind is disorganised? When your mind obtains organised, the method you assume is the method you really feel-- your emotion will get arranged. As soon as your idea and feeling is organised, your energies will get organised in the very same direction.

Once your idea, emotion as well as powers are organised, your extremely body will certainly get arranged. Once all these 4 are organised in one instructions, your ability to create and manifest what you want, to reach your objectives comes to be phenomenal.

When it concerns producing life scenarios, job circumstances and whatever else you should finish with the world around you, you could utilize the power of the mind making it happen. Quite effortlessly, without lifting your little finger, you can make things happen simply by having a mental concentrate on exactly what you want.

Want to win?

The modern-day globe has actually ended up being just ambitious, in the feeling everyone simply 'wishes to win the video game.' Whether its life or sport, they're only thinking of winning. I really feel that's a big mistake. Individuals don't win a game since they want to. Who does not want to win? Everybody intends to win. People win a video game since they play well, isn't really it?

The appropriate way to accomplish your goal

If you get associated with the expectation of the fruit then you will certainly not care for the plant. It is not since you want the fruit that fruit involves you. Fruit comes to only those who do activity in the most effective feasible way.

So do not change your focus on the fruit. If you change your attention to the fruit, you will certainly not perform your activity appropriately. That does not imply that you should not have a goal. The extremely training course of action is in the direction of the goal, constantly-- whether it's a video game or a business strategy or a spiritual procedure, it matters not exactly what. We are functioning to an objective. If you're as well concerned about the objective, you will certainly not nurture the action today, this moment.

It is like you plant a mango tree and also you rest in front of the mango seedling every day fantasizing regarding the mangoes that will certainly come, just how you will eat them, the sweetness of the mangoes. you envision and you enjoy the feeling. You picture the amount of mangoes will come, exactly how you will offer them, and how you will certainly come to be an abundant man.

You think about all this but you forget to water the plant. You will certainly not see mangoes. Instead, if you don't also assume concerning the mangoes, everyday you just enjoy the procedure of merely nurturing the plant. And also every leaf that comes on it is your incentive and also you simply support the plant. If you do that mangoes will most definitely drop on your head.

If you desire the appropriate outcomes, you have to do the appropriate sort of action. If you have to do the appropriate type of activity, after that you must be 100 percent there with just what you are doing.

#healing #spiritual

[fragiledewdrop]

11 Questions

Rules: Always Post the rules. Answer 11 questions, then make up 11 new ones and tag 11 people. Inform the person who tagged you that you answered their questions.

Tagged by @procasdeanating . You are so right, we used to do this a lot! It brings back fond memories. Thank you.

Okay,I’ll try to put as much spn as I can in my answers, but I have been reading mostly works in other fandoms as of late, so be prepared for a bit of everything.

1. Favorite fic you read this year?

Definitely  Keeping You in Sight by  gingerswag , which I had been following since the beginning. It’s a slave fic, but focuses mostly on the recovery and the consequences of the abuse. I love it to pieces and will keep hoping for a sequel. Check it out, you won’t regret it (read the tags and triggers, though).

Outside the supernatural fandom, the best was without a doubt  Finding a Voice by Roselightfairy , my absolute favourite legolas/gimly story EVER (and that’s saying something)

Also shout out to  don't you dare by LoveIsNotAVictoryMarch , aka the silverflinthamilton precious black pearl of a fic you wrote for my prompt and that I keep close to my heart. It’s beautiful.

2. First memorable romantic scene that comes to mind?

SPOILERS for “Keeping you in sight”

This might seem unconventional, but at the end of this story, former slave Dean Dean decides to leave Cas behind because he understand that learning to take care of himself, to be a person on his own, is the only way he can truly love Cas:

“Listen to me, Cas.”

Cas does.

“What I’m saying is…you can’t fix me by being nice to me for long enough, or in the right ways, or anything. There’s no cheat code. There’s no right answer. I’m screwed up, and I’m gonna be screwed up forever. I’m doing my best, but there’s always gonna be shit that makes me panic for no reason.”

He swallows.

“That’s why I have to go. I can’t be your responsibility. I’m not a child, or an animal, or a toy that needs to be put back together. As long as I’m your responsibility, I’m still yours. Every time I fuck up, every time I cry, every time I get scared, you’re gonna feel like it’s on you. And I’m gonna feel like an object, ‘cause even my screw ups are yours.”

He drops his hand from Cas’s mouth, knowing he’s not going to interrupt now.

“And as long as I stay, you’re never gonna admit to me when you’re upset or exhausted or pissed at me, because you know I’ll freak. Like right now. You couldn’t let yourself be even a little frustrated, because it was scaring me. And you won’t even admit…you’re pretending you’re fine with me leaving, because you think I’m so fucked up and desperate to please that I’ll change my mind if you admit that you want me to.”

Cas pulls away from him. Dean hadn’t realized how close together they’d been until they aren’t any more.

“Dean…”

“It’s not fair!” Dean insists. “You know it’s not. We have to be free to feel sad, and be angry, and make mistakes without worrying someone we love is going to kill themselves over it.”

His heart bounds in his chest, pumping everything he’s held inside of it into his bloodstream. He feels braver than he ever has.

He thinks about Sam, fourteen and falling apart under the pressure of holding Dean’s psyche together.

“Cas, we have to learn to take care of ourselves, ‘cause we can’t take care of each other. We gotta stop hanging our happiness on other people, and then falling to bits when they let us down. They didn’t ever agree to be the way we measure our own self worth.”

With the same certainty that he knows Cas would never keep him against his will, he knows that Cas does not have the strength to make him leave if he decides not to. He can hear it in the heartbreak trailing down Cas’s cheeks.

It’s not fair to expect him to have that strength. It’s not fair, and it’s not love.

Love is choice.

Love is knowing that you can lean on someone without losing the ability to stand on your own. Love is knowing you can lean on someone without them falling apart.

You can’t lean on a person you’re holding up.

Dean knows, then, that if he allows himself to fall apart now, allows himself to be swayed, that Cas will not have the strength to make him leave, but he will also never show himself to Dean again.

Cas is trusting him to stay solid, to stay real, to not disintegrate like a hologram at the first sign of weight. He’s allowing Dean to look at him, trusting that his true face won’t turn Dean into stone.

Dean isn’t going to let it.

He takes in the image of Cas, red-eyed, blotchy skin. Calmed, now, but with still hitching breath. He lets it ingrain itself in his mind.

“Cas, I’m in love with you.”

He’s surprised at how steady his voice sounds, and how solemn.

And so Dean leaves, and Cas lets him leave, even though they love each other. That love manifests itself in their respective efforts to become better people, for each other and for themselves. It takes so much strength and so much courage to love someone like this, to change yourself for the better despite your fear, to let someone go even though you want them near just because it’s what they want and it’s the right thing to do. More than that, this is  REAL, it rings true to me: not a big romantic gesture, but hundreds of small, day to day ones; something that is not built in a moment but through a lifetime. 

3. A line that you can’t forget?

Every Christmas I reread  A Winter's Tale by NorthernSparrow .  There is a line in it that has been my mantra for years:

Many of the trees in the stores have an angel at the top. Always with its wings spread wide. A symbol of that hope, perhaps? A hope that spring will come again?

It spoke to me deeply. I kept looking at the little angels on the tops of the conifer trees and I thought, I've fallen off the tree. I want to get back on the tree.

I WILL get back on the tree. I WILL survive this winter. The sun WILL come back; for me, and for everyone; somehow, someday.

Another one that I can’t seem to forget is this:

Where I am from, finiteness does not diminish the value and pursuit of things. Just because something will end does not mean it is any less worthy of love and effort. Like flowers and trees and lovely things that grow.

I wrote it down while reading months ago and keep thinking about it, but I can’t find the story it’s from. It should be a Glorfindel/Legolas fic on ff.net, which is not at all my usual fare, but it was lovely, and this tiny extratct has so much wisdom in it.

4. A writer who inspires you/had an impact on your own writing?

The anwer to this will always be @awed-frog . But recently also @roselightfairy

5. A fic that made you cry?

Listen, I cry at most fics, Okay? So I’ll tell you which one didn’t make me cry:  The Life of Death by yellowturtle . When I finished reading it I had trouble breathing and I had to go out for a walk to avoid collapsing in a heap and sobbing for days. I’ll never understand why this story isn’t more well known.

6. A new author you found and subscribed to on AO3/followed on tumblr?

@roselightfairy (great gigolas) and tothewillofthepeople (awesome Les Miserables fics)

7. A fic that you wish would get more recognition?

All the ones I have mentioned here.

8. If you could pitch a fic (one of your own if you’re writing) to be turned into a script for the show, which one would you choose?

Another weird answer, but  Torn by Misachan . It’s dark but I would love to see a) Cas hurt by the angels b) Sam and Dean taking care of Cas c) Dean’s protectiveness and d) Dean FINALLY bringing up his past as a torturer in hell to put the fear of himself into someone who deserves it.

As for my own fics, I would love for something like  The Gold-shackled Singer, or the story of Erasmus and Kallias to be part of the Captive Prince universe.

9. A cracky prompt for anyone who stumbles across this and wants to write it?

I am not really in the mood for crack, but maaaaybe Sam and Crowley trying to get Dean and Cas together for Reasons, while Crowly is jealous and Sam is done with all of them.

10. The story that never fails to make you smile.

The Apple Thieves by: Lindir's Ghost   

It’s funny and happy and warm and the reason I know how to make cobbler.

11. A fic that you would rec to people outside fandom?

Probably  The Sawdust Men by linoresearch 

MY QUESTIONS

I am in a nostalgic mood after the holidays, so let’s talk about memories and childhood.

1) What is your first memory, if you remember?

2)The first time you realized something big (good or bad) was going on in the world?

3) The first book you remember reading

4) First movie you loved/were obsessed with

5) Your favourite game as a child

6) Favourite food as a child

7) Favourite song

8) Favourite fairy tale, if you had one

9)Do you remember your first day of school?

10) A childhood adventure

11) What did you want to be when you grew up?

Tagging @procasdeanating , in keeping with tradition (fill free to respond to your own questions too ;) ; @nevernotlikelove ; @maryshelleey ; @vengefulnoob ; @awed-frog ; @justsomeonerandom17 ; @leeaneea ; @pod7et ; @snovolovac ; @vivianecarstairs ; @roselightfairy and whoever else wants in.

This is meant to be fun, so obviously do it only if you want to.

[lookninjas]

So this is the piece I wrote for the last issue of FUCKIT, and I’m posting it here for a couple of reasons.  A -- I always kind of wanted to and it’s mine, so I’ll do what I want.  B -- As a word count case study, this is 1309 words or so, and it’s about four pages long.  Which seems bad, but it also depends on how I format, what font I choose, and honestly this last issue was 32 pages and still pretty slender, so my point is don’t stress the length too much unless you’re at, like, 5,000+, in which case we’ll have to have a discussion about giving you your own little thing. 

And then, C -- if anyone out there feels like what they wrote is too off-the-cuff or messy or goes into too many tangents or just isn’t formal enough or whatever:

This is what I deliberately chose to write, as the person making the zine.  This is what I felt best encapsulated the feeling of FUCKIT.  And honestly, even though I almost kind of cringe at some of it, I still feel that way.  We are saying FUCKIT.  This is the point.

So:

The problem is wanting to write the perfect thing. 

The problem is wanting to write the perfect thing when your subject inherently is imperfection.  The glorious messiness of life in all its bitterness, all its frustrated lashing out and bad decisions, too much and then again not enough and then too much again, petty jealous miserable misanthropic messy messy messy because at the same time I still want to somehow get it right.  To be understood.  To make some kind of a damn sense. 

It's hard.

Of course it's hard.  Every damn thing is hard.

That's not the point.

Anyway.  This is a tribute to Robert Smith.

It isn't just that Trent Reznor probably said it all first, and arguably said it better.  It's the problem of saying any of it without it coming off worse than it should.  It is 2019 and at no point are any of us to aspire to be any less than our best selves.  To live our best lives.  Instagrammable soups in designer bowls we got for cheap on Amazon with free next-day delivery and I swear to God I will get to the point here soon I'm just trying to establish some context. 

So. 

For context: I am a forty year-old woman aging awkwardly in a world I understand less with every passing day.  And I don't mean antifa, and I don't mean memes, and I don't mean this modern music or the clothes or the slang or the tattoos or the funny hair colors.  I mean, mostly, contouring.  Contouring and everyone's weirdly identical eyebrows.  The fetishization of names like Apple.  And Tesla.  Mindfulness.  Fucking mindfulness.  And manifesting.  What the fuck is manifesting and why the fuck does Alyssa Milano think that's the way for us to get the game show host out of office and for the fucking record how the fuck did the game show host wind up in office and what the fuck made the United Kingdom go "Oh, we've got one of those!  Let's elect him Prime Minister!" and why the fuck does Alyssa Milano (Alyssa Milano!) think we should instead be manifesting into office a goddamn faith healer with a Course In Fucking Miracles and why the fuck am I supposed to care what Alyssa Milano (Alyssa fucking Milano!) thinks to begin with and how much of this can I blame on John Mayer because I'm fucking blaming some of it on him at least fuck you and your Waiting for the World to Change, Johnny-boy, fuck you straight to Hell --

But Robert Smith still exists, and I guess that means there's hope for us yet. A specific kind of hope. 

Black-clad.  Hair a graying bird's nest of tangles.  Eyeliner unfashionably heavy, lipstick smeared, guitar festooned with stickers like the hatchback of my niece's hand-me-down Subaru.  Bursting into tears at the end of a concert, bursting into tears in the middle of "Disintegration," bursting into tears because boys might not cry but Robert Smith goddamn does and I guess if he does, then maybe it's okay if I do too.  Maybe I can go back to dying my hair black if I want to, maybe I can wear eyeliner if that's the mood of the day, maybe I can pile on jewelry or maybe not, maybe I can do what the fuck I want to because Robert Smith goddamn does and he is perfectly fine.  Better than fine.  Robert Smith got inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame by Trent fucking Reznor, and I get that that's never going to be my life story (I'd have to take up an instrument other than euphonium, for starters), but still. 

Maybe I don't have to think about the right way to age, the right way to eat, the right way to shower or take a nap or tie my shoes.  Maybe I don't have to compete against my weird imaginary Best Self living her Best Life in total wellness and inner peace, this race I can never win, this high score I can never catch up to.  Maybe I can just, you know, be a fucking person.  Human and strange and spiky and flawed.  And it's okay.  I'm okay.  So are you, while we're at it.  We're not okay, but you know, we still are.

Maybe this still isn't the best way to explain it.

Maybe it's the only way there is.

*

It's hard.  All of it is hard. 

That's not the point, but then again it is, too.

Look at your imaginary Best Self, living their imaginary Best Life.  Looks pretty easy, doesn't it?  Looks like it all just kind of happens without trying.  Without smudging the makeup, without rumpling the clothes or messing up the hair. No unflattering wrinkles, no bulges distorting the line of the dress.  Simple and clean.

Now look at Robert Smith.  Rumpled, messy hair, smeared lipstick, thick black eyeliner.  Living his life, his only fucking life, and tell me it's not a hell of a life?  It sure as fuck is.  Married to the girl he fell for as a teenager, still in a band with his best friend, still in the Cure after over 40 years of it, playing festivals, recording music, maybe even releasing it someday (we kid because we love, Robert).  No one could accuse him of making it look easy; looking back, it sometimes seems a hell of a lot harder than it should've been.  But you know, he fucking got there.  On his own terms, in his own inimitable style, he got there.

Doesn't it all kind of make the whole Perfection Quest seem kind of pointless?  A distraction at best, a modern-day Soma at worst?  I'm not saying don't do what makes you happy, just -- do what makes you happy, not what you think will make you happy at some point in some future where you've finally got your shit together.  Where you've completed every quest, beaten every boss, finished every level.  Because we don't.  Or I don't think we do.  I don't think we get our shit together.  I don't think we ever feel adult, or mature, or ready. I don't think it ever gets easy.

I don't think you ever say it the way you mean to.

I don't think that's the point.

*

The point is that, sometime over the summer, YouTube suggested I watch a video of the Cure performing at Glastonbury, and I did, and it hasn't been the same since then.  Or rather, it's been more the same than it ever has.  Or both at once.  Or neither.  It's hard to say.  A lot of things are.

The point is that it helped. 

The point is that it's still hard, and it's always going to be hard, and that doesn't really matter and then at the same time it absolutely does.

The point is, go listen to "Fight" if you need to.  Go listen to "Faith" if you need to.  Go listen to "Friday I'm in Love" if you need to.

Wear black or don't.  Smear your lipstick or fill it in perfect with a brush or don't wear any.  Listen to the Cure.  Listen to Lizzo.  Listen to the birds or the river or the wind howling against the windows or top fucking 40 radio.  Be as clean as you want, be as messy as you need to, be the you that is you right now and not any other imaginary you because that you doesn't exist and it never will.  Live the life that you are living right now because that's the only life you get and it might be the worst sometimes but at the same time it is still the best.  It is the only.

Write something, even if it's not as perfect as it ought to be.

And fuck the point, anyway.  

#fuckit #robert smith #kind of #fuck it it's sort of about him it counts #also i really do stand by this all 900% #FUCKIT: the zine